Chuck vs Death
by Alana B. Sherwood
Summary: 'Trust me, Chuck.' "Trust me, Sarah." Those words take on a whole new meaning to Sarah when she is told that Chuck has died and left her alone with their two year old daughter. But is everything what it seems? Previously a one-shot, now extended
1. Chapter 1

**I know it's only been a day, but I woke up this morning to an inbox full of story alerts, and it totally made my day, possibly even my life, and someone suggested that I continue, and this idea came to mind and even though I should have been doing my homework for the past four hours I couldn't stop writing and this is what came out, and ohmigodAlana breathe! Anyway, I'll be changing the title and summary to match the rest of the story, and maybe, if I don't run out of ideas, I might possibly write a story. I raised the rating for mild language and alcohol references (I really don't want to get in trouble, so better safe than sorry, right?). If you like what I'm going for and have suggestions, please let me know because I have this problem where I start things that I haven't entirely planned through (oops!). Also! I want to stay as true to the characters as possible, these are not my characters, therefore I have no write to change them, therefore if I write anything that you might think would be out of character, please let me know! I mean it! Anyway, thanks again!**

**Update! Don't kill me. I had a reviewer bring to my attention that the first chapter and second chapter don't exactly go with each other, and I completely agree. Therefore, I am removing the first chapter and will be re-posting it as a separate one-shot. The content will not be changed what-so-ever, I'm just separating them because I think the story will flow better, and the stories will be stronger apart. I hope you understand! The first chapter will be re-posted under it's original title (Chuck vs. The Last Five Minutes), so if you liked it that's where you can find it. Thank you for your understanding! **

**Summary: The kiss worked and Chuck and Sarah lived happily ever after… until the Intersect once again proves to be more trouble than it's worth: this time, it gets Chuck killed. But Sarah still remembers Chuck telling her to trust him, and she remains doubtful that her husband is really dead**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Emma and Mr. Howard. All characters belong to Josh Schwartz and Chris Fedak**

It was like a fairytale. The kiss had worked. Five years of repressed memories rushed back to her in a fleeting moment, coming so fast and so hard that it had physically hurt her brain to sort them all out. But they were back. Once again, Sarah Walker the spy was replaced. Sarah Bartowski the loving wife was back, and she'd be damned if someone tried to take that away again.

Chuck was ecstatic. She remembered him, she remembered the first time they saw each other, their first real picture, their first real kiss… everything. All the crap he had been put through those past painful weeks weren't for nothing; the desperate pleading, the kick down the stairs, the bullet he had taken- a normal person would have given up after all of that. But he didn't, and for that he was rewarded.

They bought the house with the red door and the white picket fence, and two months later Sarah found that she was three weeks pregnant with their first child. Thanks to General Beckman, not only did the spy business pick up due to her wonderful recommendations to potential clients, but Chuck was allowed to keep the Intersect.

"General… what about the Intersect? Isn't it technically government property?" Chuck asked with confusion evident in his voice.

"Chuck, as far as we know the last Intersect was destroyed when one of our retired agents was captured and forced to break into our facilities. You disarmed the bomb that threatened my life with your incredible computer-hacking skills and knowledge of computer viruses- nothing more. The Intersect no longer exists, and considering all of the problems it has caused in the past five years we will not attempt to rebuild it." Diane replied convincingly. "Now, if you are referring to the Intersect-equivalent computer program that you developed using information you had gained through your own research and experiences… well frankly, that isn't any of our damn business."

And with that, the General turned and left, her heels clicking away on the concrete floor, leaving Chuck with his oh-so-famous goofy grin displayed proudly on his face.

In total, with a kid along the way, a successful business, a dream house that has been officially claimed, a happy wife with her memories back, and a happy husband who finally got everything he worked for and deserved, you could say the Bartowski's lived happily ever after.

But then again… that would be too easy, wouldn't it?

_Three years later…_

"Here comes the airplane! Brrrrrrrr!" Sarah cooed, making those ridiculous airplane noises that she would have frowned upon eight years ago. Amazing how much a person can change, she mused as she once again attempted to feed their two year old daughter her mashed peas. Her name was Emma, after Sarah's mom. She inherited her father's naturally curly brown hair and stubbornness, hence the full jar of peas sitting in front her, but through some wild chance of genetics Emma found herself with her mother's recessive-gened bright blue eyes, along with her full round face. She was a gorgeous child, and if the Bartowski's hadn't been trying to stay out of the spot light, Emma probably would have made it as the next child star. But instead of living the wild life of a celebrity, she was living the exciting life as a child of two wildly successful spies. Although Sarah would have preferred Emma to be babysat by her grandmother, from whom her name came from, and have her young aunt Molly as a playmate, she and Chuck agreed that it'd be better for her to be watched by her Grandma Mary, who would be better able to defend her granddaughter if necessary.

"Noo Mommy!" The child wailed as she crossed her chubby arms and attempted to stare her mother down. Sarah fought to control the laughter building up in her throat at the sight of her daughter's seriousness. Sensing that her plan was working, Emma decided to change tactics as another dreaded spoonful was brought closer to her mouth. Her eyes began to water, her faced scrunched up, and in a matter of two seconds she was flat-out bawling. "I. Don't. Want. Peas!"

Sarah sighed and straightened up from the crouched position she had assumed during yet another unsuccessful feeding. Her knees popped in protest, but were ignored as Sarah crossed the kitchen to the sink as she began to wash out the jar and toss it in the recycling bin. "Amazing how Chuck can feed her with the airplane noises, but when I try it…" She muttered under her breath as Emma rubbed her eyes out of sleepiness.

"This 'Terrible Two's' stage better end soon." Sarah sighed as she released Emma from her highchair and washed away the tomato sauce splatters and stains from her face and hair. She carried Emma up the stairs and was about to undress her and place her in the bathtub when she noticed the child was fast asleep. Sarah smiled and prepared Emma for bed. Once her daughter was snuggled between the sheets and far off in a dream land, Sarah all but ran for the kitchen to grab a glass of wine and settle down on the couch for some non-Disney related television time.

As the local news theme music blared through the television speakers, Sarah checked the time for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Chuck should be home soon, she thought as the wine glass was brought to her lips. Chuck had spent the last three days up in Chicago to secure and research a new job with a man who wanted them to recover some important documents he believed were stolen from a rivaling company.

"These were our plans for the entire year!" The man, a Mr. Howards, exclaimed over the phone. He was a CEO of a well-known electronics company. "Our budget, blueprints, product ideas, advertisements; everything! These documents also enclosed the location of a new department that is developing a new product that could possibly have as much of an impact on society as mp3 players and smart phones! All of our money is going into this product, and if it's stolen by another company before we can get it on the market then we're ruined!"

"Well at this point, you must have some sort of lead on developing this new product," Sarah rationalized. "Just be sure to release before the other company and you'll still be known for being the original owners."

"We would, but we don't have the plans!" Mr. Howard rebutted.

"You have to have back-ups somewhere," Chuck insisted.

"During initial planning, yes, but when we realized how big this could be, we made it top secret. All other evidence was destroyed, a new department was created, and our staff was given a bonus to keep quiet. The lone copy of the plans remained in a vault in my office until the department was up and running and ready to build it! And now they've been stolen!"

After some extensive research and background checks, the couple determined that the CEO's story was true, and decided to take the mission. Right now they were in a preparation stage, and Chuck decided to go out to Chicago to examine the crime scene and scope out a plan before they actually broke into the rival companies' offices and steal back the papers. Sarah would have been more than happy to join her husband, had Grandma Mary not come down with a cold and Grandma Emma decided to not go on a one week vacation to Florida with Molly. She also would have been glad to see Ellie, Awesome, Clara, and Stephen again, but she was glad that Chuck at least received the chance to see his sister and family.

That didn't stop her from wanting Chuck to be with home safe and sound with her. Before, neither of them would have gotten so emotional over taking a separate three-day business trip, but ever since Emma came along Sarah has gotten more… not paranoid, but worried, maybe? She shook her head, not knowing what exactly to call it, but there was defiantly some new emotion there, and she wasn't sure what to think of it.

The sound of a short knock on the door drew Sarah out of her thoughts, and she stood, debating whether or not to bring the wine glass to the door with her. It's Friday, I'm tired, and I have a moody two-year old kid, Sarah figured, screw it. Answering the door with wine glass in hand, she was startled to be met by no other than John Casey. His eyebrow shot up at the sight of Sarah with a wine glass in hand, and before she could stop it, a hiccup rose up her throat and escaped her mouth. Great, her brain screamed, now he thinks you're a drunk!

"Casey," Sarah greeted, still not over the surprise of seeing him on her front porch. She hastily set her class down on the hallway table. "I know this looks bad-"

"I don't blame you," Casey interrupted, almost… sympathetically? "I guess you already know then. I gotta say, I didn't expect you to turn to this, but we all deal with these type of things differently."

"What?" She asked, the confusion obvious. What was he talking about? What was she supposed to know that would make her drink? "Wait, what are you talking about, what happened, why are you here?"

Casey narrowed his eyes and gave her an observing look. "How much did you drink? It takes a hell of a lot of liquor to forget news like that."

"What? No! No, I'm not drunk!" Sarah countered forcefully. Casey didn't look too convinced. Giving an audibly annoyed sighed, Sarah raised her left leg off the floor and balanced her weight on her right, and all while alternating her index and middle finger of each hand on her nose. Casey took in the sight with raised eyebrows and an almost impressed look on his face. After a few more seconds his face broke into a grin and he gave a low grunt-laugh that only Casey could accomplish.

"Okay, okay I believe you." He said. Sarah released her leg to the floor and placed her hands on her hips, the same annoyed look still plastered on her face. "Can I come in?"

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" She replied as she moved away from the door and led him to the living room, her wine glass back in her hand. As she settled back onto the couch, she motioned for Casey to do the same.

"I would have rather done this with a few more of those in you," He said, motioning towards her wine glass. There it is again, that same sympathetic look, Sarah thought. What is going on? "Sarah listen, this isn't easy news, and as your friend I hate having to tell you this, but I thought you'd rather hear this from me instead of some state trooper."

Fear instantly gripped her heart. Sarah had seen enough movies and television shows to know where this opening line was going. Someone had died, someone close to both of them. Alex? No, if it was Alex he'd be more visibly upset. Morgan? Possibly, but that wouldn't explain why a state trooper would be personally telling her otherwise. Ch- no, she wouldn't let her brain finish that thought. Chuck was fine; in fact he's going to come through that door happy and laughing any second now.

"It's about Barto- Chuck." Casey continued. All of the color instantly drained from her face. No, no, no, no, no, she told herself. Don't listen to him, if he doesn't say it, it's not true, if he doesn't say it-

"Sarah, Chuck died this morning in Chicago after being poisoned by someone who was recognized him as the Intersect." Casey said, forcing the words out of his mouth. The sound of glass hitting and shattering against a wooden surface registered in her mind before a dull ringing sound took over her hearing. Sarah's throat instantly closed up, and she felt her heart drop all the way down to her stomach. She felt something like ice take over her nerves and shoot all over her body, instantly making her nauseous. Dammit Casey, you said it, she thought.

That's what I get for comparing my life to a fairytale, Sarah chastised herself as tears blurred her vision, because life had to go and prove to me that fairytales don't happen.

**What did you think? Any suggestions? Complaints? Words of encouragement? You can even tell me what you're having for dinner tonight, just please let me know! Review! (Oh, and thanks again!)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, I have the entire story planned out (shocking, I know) and if you guys don't hate me by the end of this chapter, I'd be more than glad to continue it! I'm not quite sure how to respond to all of y'all's lovely reviews, so let me just say thank you, to each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart. If it weren't for the people who reviewed, or favorited, or added the story to their alerts, or even added me to their alerts I would have quit a long time ago, so… thanks! As a reward, here's a long(er) chapter just for you!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing accept for Stephen Woodcomb and Jacob Bower. **

"Uncle Chuck!" Four-year old Clara cried out as she once again latched onto Chuck's leg. "Pwease don't go, pwweeaassee! Can you spwin me won more time?"

"Won more time?" Chuck asked in perfect imitation as he bent down and grabbed his niece by her waist.

"Won more time!" The child exclaimed happily.

"And I'm suppwosed to do what?" He asked, still not dropping the childish dictation as he held her above his head.

"SPWIN ME!" Clara cried as she burst out into loud, high-pitched giggles. She loved it when her uncle spun her. She liked the feeling of being so high up with the 'wind' in her face. It was the child equivalent to what a roller coaster ride would do with a teenager. It was fun, exhilarating, special. But too soon, it would end, and Clara soon found herself face-down on the couch with her uncle laughing right next to her. Already forgetting about their previous conversation, Clara climbed onto her uncle's lap, right in his line of vision, and tried to hustle another run out of him. "Again, again!"

"I'm sorry sweetie," Chuck replied, returning his voice back to normal as he leaned forward and kissed her on top of her head. "But I gotta go home to Aunt Sarah and Emma, remember Emma?" Clara nodded. She remembered Emma. She remembers that Emma always gets more attention than she does, which isn't fair because Clara is twice as old as Emma, and therefore should get twice as much attention, but apparently her logic doesn't matter to adults. Something else is, she's never allowed to boss Emma around, even though Clara is older and therefore the boss. Clara shook her head in disappointment of her parent's lack of knowledge. She will have to have a talk with her mommy.

"Sis, Awesome, thanks for letting me stay over, it was great to see you guys!" Chuck said as he gave his sister a hug and brother-in-law a hearty handshake. Held securely in his sister's arms was his new nephew, Stephen. He was almost six months old, yet Chuck still wasn't used to referring to someone other than his father as Stephen. But that didn't matter; Chuck still loved his nephew and was glad that Ellie had decided to name him after their deceased father. Chuck bent down and kissed Stephen's bald, little head as the baby's hand suddenly shot up and grabbed a hold of his uncle's pinkie. "Bye little Stephen."

"Chuck! Give Sarah and Emma a hug and kiss for us, okay?" Ellie said as she followed Chuck and Awesome to his rented car. Chuck paused for a second and replayed that last five minutes in his head. It was so… typical. A typical family moment. Something he never thought he would have four years ago, before Clara came into their lives, and Sarah was made his wife, and Emma was born into the world. It just seemed so normal, and even though it had been his life for the past three years, he still couldn't get used to it. He had never thought that he would have a normal life- well a semi-normal life. And it was moments like these that he was really appreciative of what he- Chuck casually glanced down at his watched and brought himself back to reality. He could be thankful later, right now he had to catch a flight and get home to the people he was thinking about.

"Oh yeah, uh, will do, Sis," Chuck replied, suddenly remembering her earlier request. Hull his suitcase in the trunk, close it, open the driver's door, flop down on the seat, buckle up, start car, roll down window, wave and shout "goodbye" one last time, shift car into reverse, pull out of the driveway, shift to drive, and away he went, ready to reunite himself with his family. Three days is far too long, Chuck thought as he pulled out of the neighborhood and joined the traffic that was heading to the interstate in the direction of the Chicago O'Hare Airport.

However, there were many important activities that he left off that check list, and there were many important other things that he should have been thinking about. Chuck forgot to search the back seat and trunk for any ill-conceived assassins. He forgot to turn on the portable spy-scanner that he built and temporally installed himself in the rental car. He forgot to take evasive action while driving to and from Ellie's house to shake off any followers. He forgot that he shouldn't provide any opportunities to hide any possible assassins as he turned on the radio and blared music through the car speakers. Chuck forgot that he was a spy.

The assassin's name was Jacob Bower.

o 0 o

Jacob Bower hated the CIA, NSA, FBI, SBI, and the DMV. Basically, he hated America, and all of its agencies. His life was over, and it was all because of America. It was also the country's fault that he couldn't leave. Ever since the border patrol agents started to seriously crack down on illegal immigration, it was next to impossible for him to get out without a passport, and since he was one of the country's most wanted criminals, he couldn't get a passport. Jacob was trapped in a country who wanted nothing more than to see him dead and who he, in turn, hated with all of his heart. Well… not exactly all of it. There was a very deep, very dark, very vengeful part of his heart that he had reserved for the one person who sent his life to the Hell it resided in now.

The Intersect.

When Fulcrum fell, the Ring was furious. So furious that they turned their back on their once "best division" and left them to deal with the arrests, tortures, and imprisonments themselves. But it wasn't the Ring Jacob was mad at; they got what they deserved when they fell a year later. It was the Intersect. Jacob was once a very wealthy, very happy, very powerful man. He had all he ever wanted: a large house, money to burn, a dream job, and a license to kill. It didn't matter that this 'license' wasn't legal in the eyes of the government. Someone said he could kill, and kill he did. They used to bring him with them on missions where they knew there were going to be fatalities, and it was because of this that Jacob had seen the face of CIA's and NSA's best agents. He used to kick himself at night when he realized that he had probably had the chance to see and kill this Intersect in the past, but somehow this mystery person slipped away. Jacob had seen his face, he had held his life in his hands- to think that the Intersect had gotten away was so frustrating.

However, living in the past wouldn't make a difference. It wouldn't change the fact that Jacob had been forced to run for his life, that he had to burn down his house with most of his possessions still inside in order to destroy any government-planted bugs or trackers and to get rid of any evidence tracking him back to the house- he bought the house under a fake name, but that didn't keep his finger prints from infecting every square inch of the two story beach-side mansion- that he had to withdrawal as much money as he could carry before canceling every bank account he had and therefore loose the small fortune he had worked so hard for, that he had to change the license plate on his car, paint it a new color, and then sleep in it every night because he was too afraid to buy an apartment or even stay in a motel, that he had to pick-pocket to pay for gas and twenty-five cent clothes from Goodwill and food and drink- it didn't change the fact that his life went to Hell in a matter of three days.

And now that he thought about it, killing the Intersect wouldn't make a difference either. But it would make him feel a hell of a lot better.

As Jacob waited impatiently for the light he was currently stuck at to turn green, his fingers drummed against the dashboard of his car, and he reflected on his last thought. Kill the Intersect… it almost sounded like it would be a waste. So many years of hard work, and it sounded like more than one lives have met their end in the safe-keeping of the Intersect. And now he was just going to kill it, make the problem disappear. Such a shame. A sudden thought struck him as Jacob turned the car into the neighborhood. The Intersect was powerful, so powerful that at one point he remembered hearing about having to have it terminate so it didn't pose a threat to mankind. If only he could- Stop that, Jacob told himself. You have a plan, stick to the plan.

Jacob parked in front of the house matching the address that was hastily written down on an abandoned receipt he found at Lower Wacker Drive. As he hastily shoved the few possessions he had in a backpack, Jacob glanced up at the clock on the dashboard. Eleven-thirty in the morning. The Intersect's flight was set to leave at two forty-five. He should be leaving soon. Keeping the keys in the ignition, Jacob stepped out of his car and casually strolled down the street to where the Intersect had parked his rental. As he walked past the house he knew the Intersect was staying at, he casted a quick glance towards the windows. The blinds were closed. Perfect. After giving one last glance around the neighborhood for any roaming civilians and concluding that the coast is clear, Jacob crouched down by the passenger door and waited. He knew the door was locked, and attempting to open it would set off the alarm.

As Jacob waited, he started to think. This is a dangerous habit, he decided, if I keep thinking I'm going to get myself into some serious trouble someday. But then again, it was by thinking that he came up with this marvelous plan, but if he kept thinking, he might talk himself out of it. Okay, stop thinking… However! No. Stop. But it could-No! Stop! We could get back everything we lost! NO! STOP! … wait, what?

"Chuck! Give Sarah and Emma a hug and kiss for us, okay?" He heard a feminine voice call out. Chuck? That must be his real name… idiot, you knew Charles Carmichael wasn't his real name. Jacob chastised himself. The sound of locks clicking up registered in his mind, and Jacob stealthily opened the passenger door and dove to the floor of the car. His braved a glance up to see if this "Chuck" was coming, but he appeared to be lost in thought. Idiot, Jacob sneered to himself.

"Oh, yeah, uh, will do, Sis!" He heard Chuck respond. As Chuck loaded his suitcase in the trunk of the car, Jacob prepared the needle. This was almost too easy. It was almost kind how he was sending the Intersect out of the world, while the poison wouldn't kill him immediately, it still worked pretty quickly, at least quicker than it did before. If he really wanted him to suffer, he could- Stop. Kill him. It's enough.

Jacob snapped out of his thoughts as he realized that the car was moving, and had been moving for quick some time now. He lifted his head up and peeked out the window. They were on the interstate, at what seemed to be a break in the traffic. It was time.

o 0 o

"_Birds singing a song, old pain is peeling, this is that fresh, that fresh feeling_," Chuck sang along to the radio as he coasted along the interstate. Weird, there isn't much traffic around, he thought and he reached for his cell phone to call Sarah. A blinding pain erupted in his neck, and with a cry Chuck shot out his hand to grab the perpetrator. He heard someone gasp as his hand tightened around what felt like a neck, and a slight smile played on his lips. Now he just needed to find a safe place to pull off so he could throw up the substance he had been injected with… only to find that he couldn't move his arm to turn the steering wheel… or his other arm… and he couldn't lift his foot off of the gas… damn.

"What… did you… do?" Chuck gasped as he attempted to turn his head and see who the sick bastard behind all of this was. It was a miracle that he could still talk. With ease, Jacob peeled away Chuck's fingers from around his neck and climbed onto the front passenger seat.

"It's a curious toxin, isn't it?" Jacob asked sadistically as he brought the vial up to the light to inspect. "They've really gone far with this. This particular dose has been engineered to kill much faster… so I'd say you have until the end of the day to live. They've also include an additional drug that induces paralysis… its exact name escapes me, but as you've found out, it is defiantly there. Anyway, I'm sure you will agree that it's certainly more effective than it was as a simple truth-telling drug."

Chuck felt his eyes widen as he desperately tried to regain control of his limbs. "Pentothal." He breathed as the memories came rushing back to him. Ellie had been drugged over some codes, and when Chuck tried to deliver the codes he inadvertently exposed the team, putting their lives at risk, and there had been a moment where he didn't exactly see his life flash before his eyes, but he saw… almost a list of things he needed to do before he died, and he asked Sarah if their relationship was going anywhere, and she said no, and afterwards he had gone to train to withstand the effects of the drug- yes, Chuck remembered pentothal very well.

"I see you remember," Jacob sneered. "But what I really want to talk about is how you, of all people, ended up with such a powerful weapon. The last time I saw you, I believe it was around seven years ago, you were a klutzy, bumbling computer nerd- an analyst is what I believe they called you. We tried to drop you off a roof, twice I believe, but you amazingly survived each time, the second time you actually returned with an army of agents. Maybe you remember, I was working for a Mr. Colt at the time."

If he could've, Chuck would have smirked. He remembered Mr. Colt too. The man actually complimented Chuck when he was arrested. That was the time that Casey saved his life by catching his arm as he fell off the building and dropped him safely on a balcony, and Chuck later learned that Casey was under orders at the time to prepare himself to kill Chuck. It really was a cool moment.

"Anyway," Jacob continued as he leaned over and grabbed a hold of the steering wheel. He obviously wants to talk more, Chuck thought as he felt sweat tickle the back of his neck. "The only reason I wasn't arrested then was because I had left his employment the day before the mass arrest- a stroke of luck I suppose. That luck ended the day Fulcrum fell. I believe I have you to thank for that." Jacob muttered as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning pale as bare bone shone through the skin. After a moment, a smile took over his face, and he seemed to relax. "It doesn't matter though; very soon I'll be able to move on from that."

Chuck stared in horror as Jacob released the steering wheel and casually buckled up his seat belt. Oh God, he's going to let us crash, Chuck thought as he saw that they were coming up to soft curve. At this point, every muscle in his body felt sore and well-used, he was sweating profusely, there was a distinct ringing in his ears, he felt like he had a wade of cotton stuck in his mouth, and his vision was blurring around the edges. Chuck felt hot and feverish, and for some reason, un-triggered memories found their way to the forefront of his mind.

_Trust me, Chuck._

_Chuck I fell for you a long, long time ago, after you fixed my phone, and before you started defusing bombs with computer viruses, so yes._

_Shut up and kiss me._

_Chuck, you're a gift. You're a gift I never dreamed I could want or need and every day I will show you that you're a gift that I deserve. You make me the best person that I could ever hope to be, and I wanna spend, and learn, and love, the rest of my life with you. _

He found that a tear was streaming down his face as the car rapidly neared a concrete barrier that would certainly end his life, if the poison didn't first, and the last word out of his mouth before he lost consciousness was the name of the person he just wanted to be with right now instead of here approaching certain doom…

"Sarah…"

**Don't kill me. I always figured that Chuck's last words would be his wife's name, though I'm not saying that they are his last words, but I'm also am not that they're not, just… don't kill me. If it was a tragedy, I would have categorized it as such, right? So just… think about that. Please review, let me know of any mistakes- remember I can't improve if y'all don't lay on the criticism! Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! I don't really know if anyone is still reading this, or just starting to read this, but welcome to chapter three! I'm sorry this update took so long, I guess I just wasn't motivated or something. Remember, don't forget to read and review, I can't improve if no one calls me out on my mistakes! Happy Reading!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck… except for the first three seasons… on DVD**

"_Slumber my Darling, Mother is here,_" Sarah sang the special lullaby softly to her sleeping child, hoping, praying that Emma would have a peaceful sleep despite the recent news. In truth, the toddler had been asleep for a little over half an hour now, but Sarah couldn't bring herself to stop. To stop singing would bring silence, and silence would bring the natural urge to think, and if she began to think, Sarah might think about- Stop. She wiped a stray tear away from her face and continued the song.

"_Guarding your dreams from all terror and fear,_" This song had brought her so much comfort when Sarah was a child, why wasn't it working now? Because her husband is- Stop. "_Sunlight has passed, the twilight has gone…_"

Realizing that she shouldn't continue to use her daughter for her own personal escape, and that she should let her get some well-needed rest, Sarah hoisted herself out of the rocking chair, Emma held tight in her arms, walked across the room to her small trundle bed , and gently laid her on the soft mattress. On the floor next to the bed, Sarah found Shadow, Emma's favorite stuffed dog, and she placed him next to Emma's sleeping form to guard her during the night. "_Slumber my darling…_"

Emma had taken the news very badly. She stormed around the house, screaming, crying, demanding to see her father, and when she realized that Chuck wasn't coming back, she hid herself in her room and threw her toys around. Even Shadow had been tossed carelessly to the floor, hence his neglected position on the floor, instead of lovingly on the bed where he normally resided during the day. The reaction broke Sarah's heart even more than the news itself. Emma loved her father very much. Her face was still flushed and wet from tears shed not only thirty minutes ago, and her hair clung to cheeks. That sight alone made Sarah want burst into tears herself. As if she hadn't cried enough. "_And the night's coming on_…"

o 0 o

Sarah's hand instantly flew to her chest as she felt her heart throb painfully. This wasn't happening, this wasn't happening, this _couldn't_ be happening. Chuck, her husband, the father of her child, the love of her life, _could not_ be dead. This hurt more than when she thought he was in the Nerd Herder when it exploded, or when Bryce shot him, or when he was dropped off the roof of a building, or when she thought he had been shot while she was being held captive in Moscow, or when Shah had tried to freeze her and he said she would get to see him die- it hurt more than any of that. What was the difference between those times and now? Chuck came back to her in the end. Maybe… maybe he would come back to her now. She really didn't know exactly what happened, and he could still be alive. But the only person who'd know that is-

"Casey," Sarah said as her head snapped up to his general direction, a surprising amount of strength in her voice. "What happened?"

Casey looked at her uncertainly, but his features softened as he understood the reason behind her change in attitude. Once a spy, always a spy, and the first thing spies learn is to not let their emotions get in the way of learning important information.

"From what Ellie told us, Bartowski left her house for the airport at around eleven thirty-five in the morning. She hadn't initially seen anything unusual or suspicious, except for what she assumed was a trick of the light, but we later figured it was sunlight reflecting off the glass from the syringed used to-" At this, Casey saw Sarah winced, and he paused, knowing that his point was across. "Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. Ellie wouldn't have seen much, considering that the windows on his car were tinted, for obvious reasons, but it did prove to be a little too useful for the suspect. At eleven-fifty the police received a call from a witness reporting a car crash on the state highway ten miles away from the city. Fortunately, the car's safety features protected Bartowski from any fatal injuries, but the broken glass from the window shield did cut up his face, and his right foot was broken. Of course, since the public can't know that he was poisoned for being a spy, the official story is that he was in a bad car wreck."

Sarah nodded her head in understanding. This also explained Casey's previous statement about a state trooper delivering the news if he hadn't gotten there first. "What about the poison?"

"Pentothal," Casey replied, studying her for a reaction. Sarah remembered pentothal. She remembered Chuck's clumsiness had gotten them all exposed, and that he had used the opportunity of the truth-telling serum to extract from her the one piece of information he wanted more than anything, and she had to lie and break his heart… Sarah remembered the feeling of guilt and self-loathing when she saw the pain her reaction had caused him, and later caused herself when she saw his attempt to move on. Sarah remembered pentothal very well. She also remembered that there was a cure for the toxic dose that they had received, and that almost every hospital had it, especially one as large as Chicago's.

"Isn't there a cure?" Sarah asked.

"That's the thing, the paramedics gave him the cure in the ambulance on the way over, and they could have sworn it worked. His vitals were steady, and when he woke up he said he felt fine-"

"He woke up?" Sarah interrupted, obviously surprised. She hoped that, _if_ he had died, the car crash would have been it. It would have at least knocked him out and he would have gone without any pain. For some reason, the thought of Chuck waking up in the middle of all of this made her feel even more nauseous.

"Yes, he did." Casey responded, "But don't worry, I was assured he had been on pain-killers at that point."

"So what happened?" Sarah asked, still confused. It wasn't the crash, it wasn't the poison… what had gone wrong?

"That's where the story got a little… sketchy. The doctors claimed that the poison had rejected the cure due to an immunity that his body had built up due to the last time he was exposed to the poison, but this wasn't realized until Bartowski had already…" Casey found his hands moving in a circular motion, prompting her to finish the story. Sarah nodded and focused on forcing the lump down her throat so she could talk, or at least breathe. "I was told that you should expect a death certificate sometime tomorrow."

Her head fell into her hands, and she took a moment for herself. A moment to breathe, to think, to work things out. This couldn't be happening, she thought to herself for the thousandth time that night. This couldn't be happening, a death certificate means nothing, and he could still be alive, right? Or maybe… maybe Sarah was clinging onto a false hope. Maybe Chuck Bartowski was really dead.

Sarah raised her head and smoothed back her hair, trying to seem calm and collected even though she could feel small tears stream down her face. Casey looked at her with sad eyes as she carefully batted the tears away, trying to avoid places where she had makeup. "Is that, um…" She stopped and raised her hand to her throat. That damn lump still wouldn't go away. "Is that it, there's nothing else?"

When Casey shook his head 'no', Sarah nodded then stood from the couch and grabbed her keys from a table near the window, carelessly stepping on the broken glass that had once held her favorite wine. "Where are you going?"

"Could you watch Emma please?" Sarah asked, ignoring his question as she slipped into her favorite brown leather jacket. Taking his stunned silence as a 'yes', she singled out her car key and stepped out the front door.

"The toddler?" Casey muttered as he stumbled to his feet and chased after her. Casey could handle many things in his life, but one thing he couldn't handle was a two year old, who was the daughter of spies, that: wasn't too comfortable with him and knew a thing or two about stubbornness. "Wait!"

"Relax, she's asleep," Sarah said, her voice breaking somewhere in the middle of those three words. She was crying, and she was obviously uncomfortable about doing so in front of other people. Casey knew that she should let her go, but he was still trying to get over watching the two year old.

"Walker, wait!" John knew those were the wrong words before the exited his mouth, but force of habit pushed them out. Sarah turned around and stared him down, the look on her face a mix between 'are you stupid' and 'what the hell?'

"What?"

"Oh wait! That was wrong-"

"Like hell it was wrong!" Sarah shouted. Casey looked around to make sure there was no one out before returning his attention back to her. He knew that she needed this, she needed to blow off some steam, and he was okay with standing there and taking it. Sarah had a million and one more things to shout at him, but she knew that Casey was aware of every single one of her arguments She knew he said it out of habit. "It's _Bartowski_. Get it right."

And with that said, she lowered herself into her car, started the engine, and sped off. Sarah needed to go somewhere familiar; somewhere no one would find her, somewhere safe. And somewhere she could hear his voice.

o 0 o

This is a horrible idea; Sarah chided herself as her finger lingered over the Enter key. A sad, pitiful, horrible idea, and she knew she'll pay for it later. But at the moment, it might just be the comfort she needed. To think that she would never hear his voice again… it was too much. At least this one time; she'll indulge herself this one time. Her finger hit the key.

A picture showed up on the computer screen. Sarah shivered and buried herself deeper into Chuck's black Buy More jacket that she had traded for her leather one. She hugged her knees to her chest, at least for something warm to take comfort in, and released a breath she didn't even know she was holding. There he was, only six years younger. His hair was cut in the short, curly fashion she had been so found of- it wasn't long like it was the first two years she had known him, but it wasn't buzz-cut either. Sarah hadn't been very fond of the buzz-cut, she liked his childish curls. Seeing those curls again was something else to take comfort in. He was wearing black dress pants and shoes, a light blue shirt and a black vest over it. In his left hand was a brief case, and his right hand was being used to gesture his words. Sarah wiped away a stray tear and forced a small smile to her lips. She could probably recite the entire video from heart, but there was something about hearing those words come from his lips, the same lips she had kissed so many times and would probably never kiss again…

"Look Sarah I know, I know that you are probably very hurt. You're hurt that I didn't run away with you in Prague. I get that, I'm sorry."

Sarah had been hurt. She had thought that he was like every other spy she had developed feelings for, that the job had become more important to him than the girl, and it almost killed her to think like that.

"You have to know that you are everything that I ever wanted. But how could I do that, how could I run away with you, how could I be with you knowing what I turned my back on? You know? Knowing that what I have in my head could help a lot of people."

The Intersect did help a lot of people. Chuck saved a lot of lives, and in the end you could say it was worth all of the trouble. But as happy as Sarah was that the Intersect saved lives, it didn't save the life of the person that was worth the most to her.

"And you're the one that taught me that, that being a spy is about choosing something bigger, it's about putting aside your own personal feelings for the greater good, and that's what I chose, I chose to be a spy for my friends and family and you…" The tears were coming out faster, harder, and Sarah found that her hands were shaking, so much so that she couldn't stop the video before the last part came that she knew would tear out her heart and chop it into a million little pieces.

"I choose to be a spy because…" On the screen, the door to the room slid open, and she could tell that Video-Chuck was struggling to keep his eyes open. Don't say it, please; oh this idea was so stupid.

"Sarah I love you…"

A soft cry escaped her lips as the crying took over Sarah's voice. She buried her head between her legs a cried. She cried, she screamed, she cursed out God and begged Him to return Chuck to her, but it did no good. After an hour, Sarah found herself curled up in a fetal position on the floor, her arms wrapped around herself, her nose hungrily inhaling the scent from Chuck's jacket, her throat raw, her eyes red and puffy, and the tears nowhere close from halting.

"I love you too Chuck."

o 0 o

It was a gorgeous day; the sun was shining brightly, the sky was a clear, entrancing blue, and a light breeze passed every few seconds to keep the sun's rays from nipping at the necks at those enjoying the afternoon. It wasn't the type of day that should be burdened with a funeral.

To make matters worse, Charles Irving Bartowski was buried at the same church he was married in.

A sea of black made its way through the solid oak doors to a place that, at one time, had promised a new beginning, a new life. However, today its sole purpose was to confirm the end of a life. The entire Buy More crew had been granted three days off, considering their relationship to the deceased, and most had decided to repay the favor by attending the funeral. In the front row sat Morgan and Alex Grimes; Alex heavily pregnant with the couple's first child. Morgan stared ahead in complete shock at the casket. There, in that glossy wooden box, lay his best friend. The person he grew up with, the person he comforted when they had been abandoned by both parents, and who repaid Morgan by offering him a home when he developed parent issues of his own. The person with whom he shared his hopes and dreams, the person who pushed him to make something of himself, the person who, without whom, Morgan wouldn't be the person he was today. Morgan lost his brother, and his grief showed.

Next to Morgan sat Mary Bartowski. Mary was completely distraught. She had seen men murdered before her very eyes, men with wives and children and families. Some had even died by her own hand. Mary had seen horrors. She saw tortures, battles, personal wars; she even served the man whose goal had been to see her husband dead and whose daughter had attempted to murder her own daughter-in-law. But none of those experiences, those nightmares, those horrors compared to what was happening. Mary outlived her child. Mary lost her little boy. Words could not describe her grief.

And at the end of the row, next to her mother-in-law, sat Sarah with her daughter held tightly on her lap. Sarah was done crying, done screaming, done asking why. Sarah only wanted this day to be done and behind her so she could focus less on _what_ happened, and focus more on _why_. She was a spy. And it was about damn time Sarah acted like one. First she was going to fly to Chicago and do a little investigation of her own. Maybe she could get a lead that'll direct her to a suspect. Maybe Chuck's death could be avenged.

The now single mother bounced a dozing Emma on her lap and tried desperately to ignore the giant casket in the middle of the raised platform at the front of the church. It was long and built out of a rich, dark wood. Bright flowers surrounded the coffin, attracting any eye to it and protruding a heavy floral scent that tickled the nose of anyone who was in attendance. It was a gorgeous sight; how could Sarah ignore it?

Sarah was so involved in her thoughts that she didn't notice the priest had started talking, and had been for the past five minutes. "Chuck was an incredibly selfless person- there wasn't one person he met that couldn't say that. He had saved the lives of his family and friends on more than one occasion, along with the lives of countless others. He was an American hero."

Sarah winced and discovered a sudden interest in the butterfly pattern on the back of Emma's dress. She hated that word. _Was_. Even though it's true, and at this point _was_ does apply to Chuck's life. Sarah also wasn't sure how she felt about this priest. That was one of the many things she hated about funerals: people would openly cry in public, all of the flowers made you hate that sweet floral smell, and the priest's always acted like they knew the deceased. They didn't know the deceased. Sarah knew the deceased. Sarah should be the one up there talking.

"And now, I believe the widow has a few words to say," The priest said, extending his hand towards Sarah. She fixed the middle-aged man with a glare. That was the other "w" word she hated. _Widow_. That made strikes two and three.

After handing off Emma to Mary, Sarah stood and straightened her skirt, then made her way to the podium. Just say the speech, don't look, and then sit back down, Sarah chanted to herself internally. As she cleared her throat, Sarah looked up at the mourning people in front of her and found herself a little scared to be addressing such a haunted looking crowd. Okay don't look at them either, she told herself as she discovered yet another interest, this time in a pattern in the wood of the podium.

"Hi, I'm Sarah Bartowski," She started, the words coming out slowly. Already that damn lump was making its way back to her throat, and the floral stench of the flowers was really starting to get to her. A tear fell out from the corner of her eye of its own accord, and she swatted the disobedient tear away. "Chuck… Chuck, uh, _was_… my husband."

That, she thought, was a lot harder than it should have been. Sarah looked up at the crowd again and found that most were staring at her with a sympathetic look. She took a deep, calming breath and dug her finger nails into the wood. That was something else she hated about funerals. The sympathy. She needed strength from someone, and out of habit, she turned around and looked into the face of her husband. That was a mistake.

Chuck looked so peaceful. His hair had been washed and brushed, and you could tell that before his death he had been attempting to grow his curls back out. He was dressed in a black sports coat, black dress pants, and a button-up white shirt, complete with a tie. Sarah knew he always hated having to dress up in a suit, and he would tone it down a bit by wearing his black All-Star Converse- in fact… Her eyes traveled down to his feet and the corners of her mouth twitched up slightly. There they were, his favorite pair of Converse. They were worn, muddy… they were Chuck. His face looked so relaxed; he almost could have been sleeping. For a second, Sarah thought that all she had to do was rub and shoulders and whisper "good morning" in his ear, and he'd sit up, laugh, give her a kiss, tell her everything was okay…

Maybe that's all she had to do. Before she could stop herself, Sarah's hand traveled over to the casket and hovered over his cheek. She needed absolute proof that he was dead, she needed to feel his lifeless cheek, just to know that it was true and she could let go of all hope-

"I'm sorry, M 'am, but I'm going to need to ask you to not touch the deceased. Sarah's head snapped up in shock, and she looked up in the face of the face of a man with light gray hair, wearing a typical men's suit, and black sunglasses covering his eyes. Obviously an agent, to guard his body, Sarah told herself. She knew that since Chuck truly was an American hero, he was to be buried in Arlington Cemetery in Washington D.C., and that he was only here for a viewing and memorial service. But why was she not allowed to touch him?

"I'm his wife," Sarah said, hoping that that would convince him she meant no harm. When the man made no change in his position, she lowered her voice and pressed further. "I'm a retired agent from the CIA, I used to be a favorite of Director Graham, and I worked with Agent Bartowski on the Intersect project for four years. He's my husband, I mean no harm I'm just trying to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry for your loss M 'am." The agent responded, yet he still did not move. Sarah straightened and gripped the podium. This was too much, why wasn't she allowed to touch her husband? When did it get so hot in here? Had the smell of flowers gotten stronger?

The next thing she knew, Sarah found herself running down the aisle, muttering her apologies to the people in the pews. Blood roared against her ears, drowning out the sound of anything but her own breathing. The over-powering stench of flowers had finally taken its toll, and Sarah felt like she could be sick.

Sarah pushed against the large oak doors and took in a deep breath of air- just in time to relieve her stomach of its contents on an over-grown rose bush just off the side of the stairs. Once she was done, she slid down the railing onto the stairs and rested her cheek against the cool marble surface. Sarah was exhausted, and as much as she tried to ignore the painful throbbing in her chest, she couldn't knowing that it was due to all of the emotional twists and turns her body has had to handle over the last few days.

Before she could continue her thoughts of Chuck, she heard the doors and distinguished the vibrations of the floor to be caused by a heavy footfall. Here we go, Sarah thought to herself as she buried her head into her arm, the tears falling freely from her eyes at this point. She wondered who it could be. Morgan? Alex? Mary? Maybe it's Mary… Knowing that she couldn't hide from the inevitable, she wiped her eyes as dry as they could be, and raised her head to met the eyes of… Casey?

"Casey?" Sarah asked, her voice thick from emotion.

"Yeah," He replied simply as he stared uncomfortably at the floor. "Mind if I, um, sit?"

"Yeah," Sarah said as she busied herself in straightening her appearance without the use of a mirror. "Go right ahead."

"You know, when I became John Casey… it wasn't easy leaving Kathleen behind." He began. Sarah looked up, trying to hide her surprise. Casey wasn't known to try to open up to people. "When I joined the NSA, I didn't exactly realize what I was giving up. I was too busy thinking about how many people I was going to help, and all the guns I'd get to handle, and all the bad guys I'd get to take down. Then I realized that I was going to lose my wedding, and my chance at starting a family, and my… fiancé. It was then that I realized that sacrifices I was making for my country, and although I understood and accepted those sacrifices, it was hard."

Sarah stared ahead in silent sympathy. She could relate, almost a little to well.

"Of course, now I have Gertrude, and things with her are great… I think I might even love her. But I can't help but think what could have happened if I didn't take this opportunity. I could've had a wife, and a home, and Alex wouldn't have grown up without knowing who her father was. Anyway, I guess my point is that I can relate, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, or help with anything, I'm here."

Casey looked up at her for a reaction of any sort, and when she gave a soft nod he found himself strangely satisfied. Good, at least she heard him. After giving her a slightly-awkward pat on the back, Casey stood up, about to leave when he was stopped by a voice.

"Casey." Sarah called.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna come to Chicago with me?"

**After reading this over, I realized that there might have been an implied relationship/spark between Sarah and Casey but it is NOT TRUE! I promise, if it was I wouldn't be able to live with myself! And sorry for the angst, I hate writing it, and I don't think I did too well, but it wouldn't be realistic without grieving, right?**

**Review Please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Did I ever mention that I love you guys? No? Well I do! And I know it's not so obvious, since this chapter was obviously late (I'm so sorry! I had concerts that are supposed to act as finals, and last minute tests to wrap up the school year, and I know this is no excuse, but… yeah). And to those of you who have reviewed, I am so sorry I haven't responded, but I just don't know what to say to your display of overwhelming support except thank you so very much! However, I am planning on leaving personal responses at the end of the chapter. Happy Reading!**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.**

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Sarah asked for what felt like the hundredth time, "I mean, I'll admit, she's a bit of a handful at this age, and I can always call Mary-"

"Well, uh, actually…" Morgan started, his voice going up an octave higher than normal as he searched for a good excuse. _Emma won't be safe here!_ _Our furniture could spontaneously catch on fire, we have an outbreak of head lice, we just got word that an alien invasion is on its way and the government needs to me kick some extra-terrestrial ass… _Or he could just tell her the truth; Morgan is honest-to-God scared of the idea of taking care of a child, let alone fathering and raising a _baby_, and even though Alex is bigger than Jupiter, he still absolutely _refuses_ to believe that Alex is pregnant, and-

"Of course, Sarah!" Alex said cheerfully with a casual wave of her hand, "We absolutely love Emma, and this'll be good practice for when little Logan is born-"

"Logan?" Morgan squeaked, his voice, if possible, managing to go an octave _above_ that octave. "Logan, well uh, uh that's a very uh… interesting name, when did we, we decide on that, exactly?"

"I like the name Logan," Alex said coolly, evenly; she was using that same tone of voice her father used when he was about to snap someone's neck in half. However, leaving as quickly as it came, her glare was replaced by a maternal look of loving and caring as she affectionately stroked her swollen belly. "It's a good name for a girl or a boy."

"Well, yeah, but I mean come on, _Logan-_"

"Oh boy, would you look at the time," Sarah stated, feigning interest in an imaginary watch around her wrist. "The plane will be leaving in an hour, and we really should be going." Alex gave Morgan a look that clearly meant _We'll finish this later_, as Sarah stooped down to Emma's eye level. The child looked lost, scared, confused, a little tired, maybe hungry… She shook these thoughts out her head as she buttoned the child's jacket and smoothed back her brown curls. Saddened by the look on her daughter's face, Sarah forced a smile to form on her lips. It was the same smile that Sarah had used countless times on countless missions, no matter what emotion she was feeling. It was also a smile that her two year old daughter could see through. If anything, the sad look in her eyes turned into one that was almost haunted. I should go before she gets even more upset, Sarah thought as she leaned down and pecked a kiss on Emma's head.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Baby?" Sarah asked, the same smile threatening to break her face.

"Mommy, awe woo gonna gwet Daddy?" That one question, that one damn question, was enough to rip Sarah's heart out of her chest, stab it repeatedly, and then stomp it into the ground until it burned in the lava core residing in the center of the Earth. Tears were brimming of their own accord, and threatened to spill out. What's the harm of lying on the Grimes' front door mat and bawling my eyes out, Sarah briefly thought before composing herself with a deep, calming breath.

"Yes, Baby." Sarah repeated, pulling her child to her and holding her tight. What was she supposed to do? Tell her no? Tell her that Daddy was gone and never coming back? Tell her that Daddy was poisoned and that she needs to lose all hope of him returning because he is dead and almost buried? The tear fell into her daughters curls, and Sarah kissed its last resting place, as if that would somehow make it all better. Sarah pulled away and wiped her eyes as dry as they could be before speaking to her child. "But um... you're going to be staying with your Uncle Morgan and Aunt Alex for a couple of days, okay? You like Uncle Morgan and Aunt Alex, they're fun."

"And wour gonna come bwack, wight?"

"Yes, Baby." Sarah repeated for the third time. "I love you."

"I wove woo too."

Sarah looked up to see Casey pulling away from Alex after a hug of his own and giving Morgan a hearty handshake. "We'll be back in a couple of days, a week at most." He said. Alex nodded in understanding as Sarah got to her feet.

"Okay, well here's a list of her favorite foods, recommended activities and movies, her bedtime, any medications that she might need to take, she has her toys, clothes, favorite books and movies, all that stuff, she likes it when you stay with her for a couple of minutes after you read her a bedtime story, just until she falls asleep, and she has her favorite night light and blanket too, and-"

"Sarah, Sarah!" Alex said, holding her hands up in the Universal sign for _Okay, I get it, you should stop talking now_. "I'm sure we'll be fine, right Emma? We're gonna have a lot of fun, yes we are!" Alex cooed to Emma, who was looking at her Aunt like she had grown a second head.

"Okay, well, thank you!" Sarah said as she gave Alex a hug- well, as much of a hug as you could give to a woman of her current size. Turning to Morgan, she also gave him a quick embrace, gave Emma a quick kiss, dipped down to retrieve her suitcase and backpack, and headed to the car that Casey had been waiting in for the past minute. "Call me if you need anything, anything at all!"

"We will!" Alex cried with a wave, knowing that her words weren't true, as she watched Sarah lift her suitcase into the trunk, slid into the passenger seat, and be driven away to the Burbank Airport. With a content sigh, she gathered Emma's belongings and walked into their home, muttering something about wanting an apple slice with salt sprinkled on it.

"So…" Morgan stated as he shoved his hands into his pocket and rocked back and forth on his heels, staring at the child before him. The look she was giving him reminded him so much of her father that he could only think of one activity that a Bartowski would like. "Wanna watch _Star Wars_?"

o 0 o

"This is ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous," Sarah muttered as she once again attempted to pull her new tan leather boot off of her foot.

"Excuse me; do you think you could hurry up?" A very heavy, very bald, and very rude man asked behind her.

Let's see, I could assault him a swift punch to the nose, twist his arm behind his back in his distortion, kick the back of his leg and force him to the ground, then proceed to choke all of the air out of his lungs until his face turns an even _nastier _sweaty shade of red, then purple…

"I'm sorry, I'll just be another moment," Sarah said sweetly, deciding not to give the TSA a reason to arrest her. Her foot was finally freed of her boot, which joined its brother in the bucket that already contained her jacket, belt, and cell phone. She unceremoniously shoved the bucket on the conveyor belt next to her carry on suitcase and another bucket containing her backpack, then strolled through the metal detector. Casey was already waiting for her at the other side of the security check, dressed and ready to go, an amused expression plastered on his face as Sarah scooped up her clothes and sat down on a nearby chair. "Care to get my other stuff?"

Giving an audible grunt, Casey grabbed her back pack and suitcase and waited as Sarah took on the challenge of forcing her boot back on her foot. Once she was presentable and ready, Sarah slung her backpack on her shoulder and raised the handle of her suitcase, staring at him expectedly.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Lead the way." Sarah said, raising her hand in the direction she assumed they were heading towards. Casey started toward their terminal, walking slow enough for her to catch up. "Why couldn't you have booked us a private jet?" Sarah asked low enough for just him to hear as they boarded a people-mover.

"Because we don't want to alert the unknown suspect of our arrival, that's why." Casey grunted back. Sarah looked forward, refusing to allow him to see that she knew he was right. She knew that, how could she not have known? It was so obvious, but she just had to let her personal feelings of annoyance interfere with her state of mind. Sarah had been off of her game for far too long. It was time to no longer allow emotions to clog her brain. It was time to be a spy.

As soon as they reached the gate, Sarah reached into her backpack and pulled out a laptop and a pair of glasses. After opening the computer and checking a seemingly transparent screen protector, Sarah slid the glasses over her eyes and pressed an almost invisible button on the side of the lenses. Immediately the computer was lit with life, and Sarah pulled up an archives file on the computer that only she could see.

"What are you doing?" Casey asked. To him, it looked as she was playing a game of Solitaire. Sarah smirked, finding herself almost eager to tell Casey about Chuck's genius invention.

"Um… Chuck," She swallowed and paused. Sarah was a spy. She had no emotions. "He invented this screen protector that creates a false image on the computer, and these glasses to show what's really on the screen." As she spoke, Sarah removed the glasses and held them up for Casey to see. After looking through them, his eyebrows shot up, obviously a sign of his impression, and he handed the glasses back to Sarah.

"Not bad. What are you doing on the archives?"

"I'm looking through old mission reports to create a list of possible suspects involved in cases that were solved by the Intersect."

"So… You're making a list of every criminal we've faced?"

Sarah gave a short, humorless laugh as her fingers danced across the keyboard. "Yeah, I suppose so." It was long and tiring work. Sarah paused only twice; once to board the plane, and again when the plane had risen into the air. She wanted this list to be completed by the time they landed in Chicago, just so that they'd have something to go on. She also wanted to have something better to do than stare out of the window and trap herself in her thoughts, thoughts that would more than likely be dictated by _him_.

Shaking her head, Sarah examined the list she had so far:

_Vuc Andric_

_Dr. Jonas Zarnow_

_La Ciudad_

_Peyman Alahi_

_Lo Pan_

_Laszlo Manhovski_

_Magnus Einerson_

_Reardon Payne_

_Stavros Demitrios_

_Tommy Delgado_

_Lon Kirk_

_Victor Fedrov_

_Lizzie Shafai_

Sarah sat back with a sigh and rubbed her eyes. This was only from year one. After leaning over to Casey and asking him to ask the stewardess for a cup of coffee the next time she passed, she set back to work. While scrolling through the titles of the remaining files, Sarah found one file that caught her eye. It was titled _Spy Will_. Sarah bit her lip and hesitated, her finger hovering over the left mouse button. Did she dare? It wasn't his actual will; it was under the Year Three file. But there was something about it that attracted her to read it. Before she could change her mind she double clicked the button. I have to stop taking these trips down memory lane, Sarah thought as a new Microsoft Word Document was pulled before her eyes.

_My name is Chuck Bartowski, and if you're reading this, it means I'm already dead. I don't know what will end up killing me, but I've chosen to be a spy and there are consequences to that. Maybe my emotions will end up doing me in. Or a slip up trying to protect my friends, or my family, who never wanted me to be a part of this. Or it could be the thing I never saw coming. But I know it's coming._

With shaking hands, Sarah slammed the laptop shut with more force than she had intended and turned to look out the window, making a vain attempt to control her breathing. There was so much truth in those words. At the time, Sarah wouldn't have considered his Spy Will necessary; she would have been scared by it, she would have become extra paranoid for his safety, she would have confused and protective. But looking back on it, it made sense. That was the year that Chuck began to actively fight, and that was the first time he had an enemy who was personally out for him and Sarah's lives. At the time, it was completely necessary.

_But I know it's coming_... Sarah shuddered at those words. They held a very sickening, very real truth. In reality, Sarah should have probably prepared for this long ago. As much as she would have loved to be a stay-at-home Mom married to the owner of the Buy More with a perfect daughter, a perfect house, a perfect husband, and a perfect life- it couldn't have happened. Chuck and Sarah were spies, and, as he had so perfectly put it, _there are consequences to that. _

Sarah could make out distinct snow-capped mountains under the plane, and according to the map on the screen mounted on the back of the seat in front of her, they were over Colorado. Not even halfway through the flight. After taking a sip of the coffee that she registered to have been in front of her for the past three minutes, Sarah rubbed her eyes, opened the laptop, and got back to work.

_Mr. Colt_

_Sasha Banicheck_

_Juliette_

_Heather Chandler_

_Farrokh Bulsara_

_Jill Roberts_

_Ty Bennet_

_Sheik Ravij Ahmad_

_Lieutenant Frank Mauser_-

"Wait a minute," Casey said as he peered at Sarah's notepad. "Frank Mauser is dead- so are a couple of other people on that list."

"I know," Sarah said evenly, focusing solely on her work and not the words coming out of her mouth. "But people who were previously believed to have been dead have… come back to us before."

"Sarah," Casey started cautiously, already knowing where this was going. Sarah inwardly cringed. She didn't like the way Casey said her name. It was too harsh and gruff. There was no care or positive emotion.

"I'm just being cautious," She interrupted. Breaking the silence with a loud _riiipp_, she handed Casey the list. "Would you mind running those names through the data bases and checking on the prisoners or, in some cases, deceased's statuses?"

"Sure," He grunted as he pulled out his own laptop. Sarah passed on her thanks and looked out of the window again. They were now soaring over obviously flatter land, broken up into multi-colored squares, representing farmland. The sun was high in the sky, at its peak, and Sarah knew that soon it was going to begin its decent back down to Earth. She pulled out her cell phone; 3:30. Looking back up at the map, Sarah saw that they were now over mid-Kansas, at this point half-way through the flight. According to the map they should land in around two hours. Yawning for what she realized was the third time in the past two minutes, Sarah decided it wouldn't hurt if she slept for maybe a minute or two. Stowing her laptop and glasses in the bag, Sarah rested her head against the window and closed her weary eyes. As she slowly drifted off to _clack _of the keys Casey was rhythmically pressing and high-pitched hum of the airplane engine, Sarah hoped that her sleep would at least be dreamless…

o 0 o

_She was running, her heels beating mercilessly against the concrete, her white dress dirtying while being dragged across the debris of the ground. A soft breeze picked up, stinging her already watering eyes, and a stitch was beginning to form in her side, but she didn't stop, didn't even slow down. She knew she must look like a wreck- her hair was beginning to fall out it's carefully coifed side bun, forming around her face in small ringlets and falling in front of her eye;, her makeup was beginning to run from tears she didn't even know she was shedding, and smudge from the many times she had to reach up and angrily swipe at the moisture building up in her eyes and clouding her vision; the delicate fabric of her dress had torn from times when it was carelessly run over sharp rocks- but she didn't care._

"_Chuck!" Sarah cried out loudly, emotionally. The church slowly formed in front of her eyes, and she pressed harder. He was in there, he had to be in there, why would he not be in there?_

"_Sarah!" Came a muffled cry from inside. She could have wept with relief, but she knew there was no time. Faster, Sarah chided herself, go faster! Taking the marble stairs two at a time, she threw her entire weight against the double oak doors and stumbled into the church. There, waiting for her at the altar, was Chuck. _

_A large smile broke her face and, tears freely streaming, she ran to him. He was perfect; donned in his tuxedo and a happy smile; he looked excited, healthy, safe. Chuck opened his arms wide, and looked as though he was about to meet her halfway, when he suddenly froze. His features contorted into a look of pain and shock, and he fell to his knees, clutching his neck. _

"_Chuck?" Sarah breathed as she fell next to him and gathered him up in her arms. She repeated his name, this time more frantic, yet he still didn't respond. Sarah looked up at the perpetrator, ready to take them down, but she froze in shock. There, towering over her, needle in hand, a look of horror plastered on their face, stood Ellie…_

o 0 o

Sarah woke up with a start, and fought hard to shove down the rising sense of panic and dread. One hand clutched her still racing heart while the other grabbed Casey's forearm.

"Casey?" She asked.

"Yeah," He grunted, not looking up from his work.

"Do you remember seeing Ellie at the funeral?"

**Dun Dun Dunnnn! My first cliffhanger! I know, you probably hate me for it, but if you press me, I'll try to have the next chapter out sooner! Love you!**

**Musicalmania, Elloshade, ljacob, ragingscooter, phnxgrl, Alivers, UKChuckster, and Princesakarlita411: Thank you guys so much! I'll do my best to continue, and I'm so glad you guys are enjoying the story so far!**

**lancemanion: Thanks for staying… optimistic ;)**

**doc2or: You're arguments defiantly hold some truth, thank you for reading in between the lines ;)**

**Special Thanks to ljacob, Musicalmania, phnxgrl, and Nerdette-AllivarT for reviewing more than once, encouraging me, and correcting me when I'm wrong!**


	5. Chapter 5

**You guys, this is awesome! Six new reviews, I can't believe it! I'm so glad so many people are enjoying my silly little story! Anyway, this chapter is a little shorter than the others, but there is finally some action (yaayy!). Just to let you know, this is my first action story I've ever written, so if you feel like I didn't do said scenes right, just let me know what I need to improve on. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

**Disclaimer: Chuck is not mine, as much as I want him to be….**

Sarah's fingers drummed impatiently against her crossed arm as she glared out the window. "Casey-"

"I know, I know," He grumbled, having obviously experienced this exchange before. After dodging around a taxi and pushing their hastily rented car another ten miles above the posted speed limit, Sarah settled back down, content with Casey's proof that he was in as much of a hurry as she was. If anything, _anything_, happens to Ellie or her family because of my ignorance, I swear to God… Sarah let that thought trail off. She already knew what she was capable of when people steal those she cares about away from her. There was no need to strain her mind by thinking about the hundreds of ways she could kill someone with her bare hands.

"Do you remember seeing anything in the search?" Sarah asked, trying to distract herself from the current situation that she, for the moment, had no control over.

"There was nothing to report from the names you gave me," Casey replied as he crossed over three lanes, earning him some well deserved honks of annoyance and various profanities screamed out of open windows, and flew down the exit ramp. "But that list was created from only the first two years, right? We still have another six years of criminals and various enemies to check up on."

"Yeah, you're right," Sarah admitted softly. "But while we're focused on Year One and Year Two records, could you check up on accomplices? Better safe than sorry."

"Once we're done here," Casey said as he parked the car in front of the Woodcomb's house. Gun already in hand, Sarah released herself from her car seat and all-but ran up the steps leading to the front door. Stuffing the barrel of the gun down the back of her pants, Sarah took a deep breath before placing what she hoped was a calm-sounding knock on the door. Please open the door, please, please-

The door flung open and there, standing before her, was Devon. He was dressed in a dark blue T-shirt and jeans, with nothing on his feet but a mismatched pair of socks. There was a fine layer of stubble on his chin, and his eyes held the look of a man who had not slept in over a week. It made sense; he was the father of two young children, one being just an infant. But there was something else; he looked haggard, stressed, worried, maybe a little… panicked? Sensing the warning signs of someone in danger, Sarah forced a smile to her face while her left hand hovered over the handle of her gun.

"Devon, we were in town on business and decided to stop by." Sarah greeted cheerfully as she casually poked her head through the door. Pressing forward, she knew she had to choose these next words carefully. "Is everything okay? We missed you a couple of days ago in Burbank."

"Wha?" Devon started, obviously surprised by Sarah's sudden appearance. Something flashed in his eyes before it was replaced by a look of confusion. Hope. "Right, I'm sorry we didn't… come, I guess, but, uh… well you know, with Stephen and… everything." He rambled. Devon brought his hand up to his ear to scratch it, and Sarah saw him jerk his head slightly in the direction his elbow was pointing in. Sarah gave a soft nod of understanding.

"That's fine, I completely understand, you know Emma was a bit of a handful at that age, it made traveling impossible-" In a sudden, swift movement, Sarah pulled her gun from her behind her back while she grabbed with her right hand at a figure behind the door. With her hand firmly grasped around the stranger's throat, she dragged him from his hiding place into the light, her gun pointed at his temple. Using one hand to knock the gun away and the other to wrap around her arm until she released his throat, the stranger fought back and pushed Sarah against the wall. She butted her head against his and followed with a swift kick to the groin, allowing her to effectively push him back. With both hands cupped around his privates, Sarah punched him in the cheek, and again in the nose.

Her fists went flying, and she felt as though she was releasing days and days of pent up frustration and stress; which she was. She didn't stop until blood was flowing freely from her attacker's nose and he was unconscious on the floor. Sarah bent down and picked up her gun, fully satisfied with her work- until she heard the click of a safety.

"Put it down," Came a cool voice. Sarah looked up to see Clara being held by a second stranger, a gun pressed to her small, four year old head. That image alone made Sarah want to unload her entire supply of artillery into the man's chest, and she could tell by the way Devon was shaking that he felt the same.

"How _dare _you." Devon growled, his hands clenching and unclenching into tight fists. "You get that damn gun away from my daughter, NOW!"

"Why of course," He said, waving the gun around carelessly as thought it was as harmless as a sheet of paper. "Just as soon as you tell your agent friend to give me her weapon."

"Sarah," Devon started, but she fixed him with a look that could curdle dairy. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Sarah was a spy; she had been trained for this. She wouldn't let anything happen to Clara.

Sarah had been trained for this. She swiftly raised the gun and aimed the barrel at the target point. She knew exactly what to do; if she could squeeze a shot at a very specific section of the man's head, he'd experience immediate paralysis and would therefore be unable to harm Clara, let alone twitch his finger enough to pull the trigger and shoot her. Sarah specialized in these shots; she did this all the time with Bryce.

_You got it, Sweetheart?_

_Yeah, yeah I got it._

_Well, give it to him._

Of course, this wasn't Bryce; this was a four year child, her own niece! If she wasn't able to pull this trick with Chuck, how could she do it with Clara?

'_You got it?' How many times had she heard that? Of course she had it, she always had it._

'_Yeah, I got it,' She replied confidently, raising her gun. It was a simple shot; she did this all the time, why wouldn't she have it?_

'_Take it.'_

The release of another safety sounded, and Sarah realized that Casey had entered and was pointing his gun at the captor too. At least, if she couldn't take the shot, Casey could.

"Look, I'm going to give you until the count of three." The man said as he brushed the gun's barrel against a strand of Clara's hair. The child's eyes widened in fear and sudden understanding, and she looked up at her father.

"Daddy…?"

'_Take the shot Sarah… Sarah?' Their heads were so close together, what if she missed? What if she hit Chuck instead?_

Devon swallowed, obviously trying to control his burning rage and fear. "It's okay Clara. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"One…"

"Daddy, I'm scawed." She couldn't do this; Sarah could not shoot at a child.

'_Take the shot!' She tried to bottle her fear and focus. Nothing was going to happen, Chuck was going to be okay. But, what it…?_

"Two…"

"Sarah," Devon growled, his impatience rising. Why the hell wasn't she shooting?

Sarah took a deep breath and focused. She had to kill him. She had too, Clara was going to be fine, this jerk was going to be dead; all she had to do was take the shot.

'_Take it!'_

BAM! The shot rang so loud that Devon physically jumped and Clara cried in shock. The man fell to the ground, his eyes wide with surprise, his face already pale with death. It was a perfect shot. And this time, it was Sarah who took it.

As Devon ran over to a crying Clara and gathered her in his arms, Sarah turned to Casey, wondering why he didn't take the shot like he did last time. Casey's face was drained of all color, and she thought she saw a small shake in his hand. She stared at him, wondering why he was acting like this, as he lowered his gun and walked forward to check the body.

Turning around, Sarah watched as the man lying on the floor struggled to consciousness. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and forcing him to sit on a dining room chair, Sarah handcuffed him to his seat and prepared herself for the interrogation. The man's eyes opened and he looked around frantically in fear, probably wondering how he had lost control so quickly.

"You're going to tell me everything you know," Sarah stated. It wasn't a request, it was a demand.

"I don't, I-I don't know anything!" The man stuttered.

"Why were you holding my family hostage?"

"You c-can figure th-at out your-rself!" He retorted. Sarah mentally agreed. If they had taken Ellie, the last thing they wanted was the Chicago police department breathing down the back of their neck.

"Where is Ellie Bartowski?"

"_He _has her," The man said, slowly finding his voice.

"_Who_?" She was rewarded with a smug smile. Her hand came down on his face, emitting a smack so loud that Casey, Devon, and Clara looked up at them in surprise.

"_Who took her_?" He spat a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva at her face, and she would have punched him again had Casey not held her back.

"Sarah!" He said gruffly, grabbing her by her shoulders. "You know that punching a suspect unconscious won't help you gain the information you need. Look, let me deal with him, and you can talk to Dev- hey, hey!"

Sarah turned around in time to see the man bite down on a small black capsule he had hidden in a pocket inside his shirt. His mouth immediately began to foam, and she watched as his body went limp. He was dead. "No, no, no, no, no! _Dammit_!"

Her foot collided with the leg of the dining room table, and she stormed circles around the room, her face red with anger. He was the only inside source they had, they might as well start from scratch! Pinching the bridge of her nose with two fingers, Sarah inhaled deeply and turned to the only other person who knew what the hell happened.

"Devon," Sarah said calmly. "We need to talk."

He nodded slowly in agreement and set Clara down on the ground. "I'm gonna be right back, okay Sweetie? Why don't you ask Uncle Casey to play with you and Stephen?"

Devon looked up at Casey, silently pleading him to watch his children during his talk with Sarah, and received a curt nod as a response. "Okay, um, let's go to the porch."

Casey looked down at the still-shaking toddler and, without a second thought, pulled Clara into a tight hug. For a moment, he wondered if he would have been good at this whole parenting thing had he been around for Alex's childhood. He could fly helicopters, shoot nearly every gun in existence with perfect aim, handle nukes like they were as harmless as bread. Why wouldn't he have been a good father?

"Hey," He said, pushing the child out to his line of vision. "Are you okay?"

The child nodded and sniffled loudly, then dragged her arm under her nose, effectively wiping up any snot with her sleeve. "Yeah… cwan I hwavea cwookie?"

Casey grunted, attempting to hold back a snort. "Sure, why not?" After handing the child her treat, she grabbed his coat sleeve and 'dragged' him up the stairs to Stephen's room. He would never admit this, especially to Chuck or Sarah, but he couldn't shoot the goon that had taken Clara at gun point. Ever since Alex had gotten pregnant, Casey had been thinking more and more about how he had missed her childhood, and how he had to be there for his… grandchild. He couldn't even think the word without flinching. Just as he was about to gun down the perp, Casey stopped and did the one thing he had vowed he would never do. He thought 'what if?' He panicked.

"What happened?" Sarah asked once they were settled into the two plastic lawn chairs on the back porch. Devon took a deep breath and looked around their backyard. The corners of his mouth would twitch up occasionally, and for a moment Sarah fancied that he was reliving his favorite memories with his family. Suddenly, the smile left his face and he turned to face her.

"Ellie was kidnapped." He stated plainly. "An hour or so after Chuck left for the airport, a man knocked on our door. Said he was sent from the hospital to fetch Ellie. When I asked why they needed her, he said 'a man identified as her brother had been involved in a car wreck, and they thought she'd like to treat him, or oversee what they were doing.' I would've gone myself, but you know… the kids…"

Devon trailed off, and his brow furrowed slightly. A feeling of guilt washed over Sarah, and for the hundredth time that day she wished she could kick herself for not thinking of them. Who knew what they had been through the past few days while Sarah had been selfishly wallowing in self-pity?

"When did you know Ellie had been kidnapped?" Sarah pressed gently.

"I got a phone call. She sounded out of breath and very frantic, and she obviously somewhere with spotty cell coverage because she kept cutting out. I caught her saying something along the lines of 'Chuck' 'dead' 'using' 'me', and then I lost the call. I haven't heard from Ellie since." Suddenly, Devon's head shot up from its earlier position of intently staring at an invisible spot on his hands, and he fixed Sarah with a look of realization and concern. "Sarah, when she said 'Chuck' 'dead', did she… did she mean…?"

He let the question trail off, knowing that his point was across. Once again, her chest constricted and her heat began beating ten times its normal rate. Her head dipped down once- twice in a forced nod and she fixed Devon with what she imaged was a look of sadness and loss.

"Oh…" He said simply, his head softly turning away. His fingers found their way to the bridge of his nose, and then ran through his hair and stayed in place on the back of his head. "Oh God… this is not awesome."

Under any other circumstances, Sarah would have laughed, or at least smirked. It was just so… Devon.

"Sarah, I'm so sorry, Chuck was… Chuck was my bro. And now he's… gone?" In his struggle for the right words, his last comment came out as more of a question. "God, how is this happening? How has everything fallen to Hell in a matter of four days?"

Is that how long it's been? Four days? Sarah thought to herself. Shaking her head, she decided to test her voice. "That's, um, that's why we're here. Casey and I, we're going to find whoever is behind all of this, and trust me, we'll make sure he pays. But I need you to tell me everything you know and everything that happened so we can catch him."

Devon nodded and cleared his throat, making his Adam's apple bounce on his neck. "Yeah, um, where was I? Oh yeah! So after I got the phone call, I, obviously, was going to go to the hospital, but by the time I got a Sitter for the kids, those two goons showed up and took us hostage. They cut our phone lines, took my cell phone, took away anything that could be used for communication, and basically guarded us until you showed up."

"Do you remember hearing them say anything that could help us trace to their employer?"

"No, not really…" He trailed off, lost in thought. Suddenly, his face brightened, and he turned to Sarah excitedly. "Actually yeah, they did! On the first day they were here, I heard one of them say something about a guy named Bower."

"Bower?" Sarah repeated, not letting herself get excited yet.

"Yeah, Bower. They said something along the lines of 'Bower said to watch them until everything's ready.'"

"Bower," Sarah said again, lost in thought. Could this be the man they're after? Are they really one step closer to finding Chuck's killer?

**And the plot thickens! What would Bower need with Ellie? Is Emma safe under the Grime's protection? **_**Is Chuck really dead? **_**Not even I know! :P**

**Response time!**

**phnxgrl: So much love! Thank you, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, and thanks for being such a dedicated reviewer!**

**Princesakarlita411: I'm not going to say how, but yes she is ;) And I'm glad you like Emma, especially since she was a character I created!**

**lancemanion: That's good!**

**Musicalmania: I'm so glad you liked Sarah and Emma's interaction, as you put it. I was worried about the new characters I was placing in the whole 'Chuck Universe', but I'm glad to hear I'm doing it right!**

**UKChuckster: I'm glad you seem so… involved (I say so for lack of a better word) in the story! I hope you liked this chapter!**

**Alivers: I'm happy (just realized I've overused the word 'glad') that I got you intrigued! Guess that means I'm doing something right :)**

**Something else, the number of people who have this story on Alerts/Favorites outnumber the number of people of are reviewing. If can get some new people inputting their opinion, that'd be awesome! (Not that I'm bored with my regular reviewers, I still love you guys!) I just want to get feedback from as many of my reviewers as possible so I can improve my writing and know what you all think. Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Gosh I feel like it's been forever! How do you guys feel about the weekly updates? Should I try to update sooner? Guess you'll have to review to let me know! :P Speaking of which, replies are at the bottom on the chapter. Sorry it's kinda short, there's no action but there is toonnns of spy work. Please review!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Sarah's foot tapped rhythmically against the hardwood floor, and her hand occasionally twitched toward her gun, which was lying less than four inches away from her on the table. She didn't like waiting; hated it actually. Sarah Bartowski was a girl of action, not a girl of patience. It was always these slow, painful, inevitable moments during a mission that brought her closest to losing her nerves. The moments where their clues led them to a dead end, there was nothing to chase, or where they couldn't move on until they got word it was safe to. Until then, they had to wait and think. Sarah didn't want to think. Her brain was too frazzled, she was too tired, too worried; how could she think? She didn't want to think, she wanted to be out there, taking down the bastard who was putting her family at risk. But until then, she had to wait for Gertrude's employees to safe-guard said family. And until then, all she can do is sit there and think. And wait for Casey to finish searching the name in the database.

"Any luck," She called over to where Casey was hunched over his computer, his eyes flashing in frustration.

"Nope."

"Well, how are you spelling it?"

"B-a-u-e-r, why?"

"Try B-o-w-e-r." Sarah watched as Casey, grumbling and hitting the keys with more force than necessary, suddenly straightened and beckoned her over.

"There's no official file, but the name was mentioned in a report."

"Which one?" Sarah asked as she peered at the screen over his shoulder.

"The Mr. Colt case, remember that one?"

"Yeah," She said distractedly. Year two of the Bartowski project. Mr. Colt had Chuck dangling by his ankles off a building. He let go. Chuck fell. Sarah thought for sure he hadn't survived, and in her grief she fought with everything she had. Right was she was about to lose, Chuck came out of nowhere, leading a rescue team. He saved her. Sarah shook her head and returned her focus to the present. "What about it?"

"Says it here in Mr. Colt's testimony. He was given the option to either release a full list of his accomplices, or receive a harsher prison sentence. The name 'Jacob Bower' was released, and it was added to a list of known Fulcrum agents."

"Does it say anything else?"

"Nothing, just that he was added to the list and that to this day authorities are still trying to find him."

Sarah fell back into her waiting chair and, picking up her coffee cup, began chewing on the end of the thin, red stirrer; lost in thought. This Jacob Bower seemed more than worthy of being a suspect. He's motive was obvious; when he was named as a Fulcrum agent, he had been forced to spend the rest of his life on the lam, but he wouldn't have been named if he hadn't been captured by the Intersect, which meant that he knew who the Intersect was, which meant that he probably also knew his cover, which meant-

A loud, shrill ringing interrupted her thoughts, and Sarah realized it was the phone call she had been waiting for. Snatching her cell from the table, she pressed the green button and held the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"_Sarah? It's Mary; I'm here._"

Sarah released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, and nodded her head. Realizing that Mary couldn't see her action, she replied, "Great, great thank you so much."

"_It's no problem; you know I want to keep Emma safe. And Alex, and… Morgan._"

"Right, well Casey said that Gertrude should have some guards over within the hour, so you won't have to watch them by yourself for too long. And remember, this is just a precautionary action."

"_Understood. Do you have any leads?_"

"Yeah… yeah one, a guy named Jacob Bower. Devon heard the name mentioned in a conversation between his… captors, and we have him listed in a report on a case we had. I think he might have had reason to want, um, _him_, well… you know." Sarah let the sentence drop, knowing that Mary would understand what she was trying to relay.

"_Okay, well that sounds like a good lead. Keep me updated._"

"Iwill, bye."

"_Goodbye, dear._"

Sarah ended the call and stared absentmindedly into space. What had I been thinking of? Sarah pondered. Oh yeah! Bower must have known Chuck's cover, which meant he knew about the spy business, and could've found a way to track their clients. Including Mr. Howard.

Grabbing her purse and keys, Sarah made her way to the door. "I'm going to ask Mr. Howard a few questions. There's a chance that Bower could have known he is our client. Will you stay and watch Devon and the kids?"

Casey mumbled a response that Sarah assumed meant yes, and without further distraction, she made her way out of the door. Although she hated sitting and waiting and thinking, Sarah had to admit that it did help move things along.

o 0 o

"I cannot even begin to tell you how deeply, incredibly, immensely, completely sorry I am for your loss. When I heard about your spouse's… passing, I, I was horrified! Astounded! It was unbelievable; a man who was helping me, a man who had only been here because of me, a man that I had spoken not even three hours before, had died! And then I started to get paranoid, I thought 'what if it had been about me?' 'what if that old ruffian had taken this measly competition too far?' Oh! But, but of course this isn't about me, it's about you, what am I doing? Your husband had died and I'm sitting here talking about myself! My sincerest apologizes, I'm sorry about that. Now, how can I help you?"

Sarah had begun to lose count of the amount of times she had wanted to knock the man's lights out during his 'heartfelt monologue.' Taking a calming breath, she forced the well-rehearsed smile to her lips and took a sip of the water glass that had been placed in front of her upon her arrival.

"Thank you very much, it means a lot. Now, you said you had spoken to… Charles, um, three hours before the accident?"

"Yes, that's right. I had received the strangest call from someone saying that your company had dropped my case, and in a moment of panic I called Mr. Carmichael to see if there was any truth to what I had been told."

"Someone called you?" Sarah repeated.

"Yes, that's right. I suppose it was some prankster trying to freak me out or something; it worked too!"

It could have been Bower, Sarah thought. But what was he trying to gain from a prank phone call? "Where there any other unusual incidents?"

"None that I can think of. Although there was this one kid who came up to my office a day or two before, insisting that it was time to change my air vent filters. I was very late to a meeting, so I paid him no mind, but when I returned, I noticed that there was still dust around the vent, and that the new filters were just lying on the floor in the middle of my office. Needless to say, I saw to it that the kid was fired immediately!"

Could that have been Bower too? Sarah mused. So he broke into the office and prank called Mr. Howard. However, when he prank called Howard, he got Howard to call Chuck. He wanted Howard to call Chuck, so he could track his location maybe? Which means he broke into the office to-

"Excuse me, Sir, could I see your phone?" Sarah asked, reaching for it without waiting for an answer. In one, practiced motion, Sarah removed the receiver and pushed aside a few wires, revealing a small, black disk. Holding the disk into a better light, Sarah's suspicions were confirmed. A tracker. So, in getting Howard to call Chuck, he was revealed Chuck's location, which had brought him one step closer to killing him. "Well at least that mystery is solved."

"Do you mind telling me what's going on?" Mr. Howard asked impatiently.

"Sir, I believe the assassin broke into your office posing as a vent worker to plant this tracker into your phone." Sarah said, holding up the tracker as evidence.

"So I was targeted?" The man gasped, his face turning all shades of white. Unable to hold back the sarcastic eye roll, Sarah scrolled through the phone's Caller ID, jotted down a couple of numbers on a nearby pad of paper, and pocketed both the paper and tracker. "I was targeted? My life was at risk? The assassin knew who I was?"

"Thank you for your help," Sarah called over her shoulder as she retrieved her purse and headed out the door."

"Wait just a minute; I'm not done with you! We have a contract! You were supposed to help me and protect me, not put me at risk! Fine! Consider your employment terminated!"

o 0 o

"Are you sure this is the right address?" Sarah asked into her phone as she flipped on her headlights.

"_Positive. The number you gave me tracked to a payphone on Lower Wacker Drive. It should be near the down ramp, next to a set of stairs leading to the sidewalks on the upper road_."

Sarah looked around the dimly lit area, trying to find the location Casey was describing. After a few more seconds search, she saw the staircase and pulled the car over to the side of the road. Mumbling her goodbyes, Sarah ended the call and jogged across the street, noticing a rectangular box hidden the shadows. Upon closer inspection, Sarah found that it was the payphone she was searching for.

As she dusted the obviously un-sanitized phone for fingerprints, Sarah did a quick sweep around the area, making sure there weren't any robbers, or rapists, or murderers lurking around. She could see a creep like Bower hiding down here; this area housed plenty of homeless people already. Who would know that he was something more than a homeless man? Who would know that he was an assassin and should be considered dangerous? The hairs on the back of her neck prickled up, and Sarah felt the sudden urge to run back to her car and not stop driving until she saw the light of day. Having gathered the evidence she needed, Sarah decided to act on her instincts.

o 0 o

"Results are in," Casey said, turning away from their make-shift forensics lab. "There are at least four sets of Bower's prints on here; he must use that phone regularly."

Sarah, who had been playing with a now happy and carefree Clara, turned her attention to the Colonel. "Really?"

"Aunt Sarah, cwan I hwave a jwuice box?" Clara asked.

"Of course, Hon, just one second." Sarah leaned on the back of her heels, the gears in her mind turning, an idea in development. All she wanted to do was capture Bower, ruff him up a little, turn him over to the county jail. Could the solution really be that simple?

"Casey, I have a plan."

**I'm kind of disappointed in my description of Lower Wacker Drive, since I have been to Chicago many times, so you can assume I've been on the drive a couple of times too, but it's been around two years, so my memory is a little fuzzy, and I guess that was the impression my paranoid fourteen year old mind got, even though it really is a cool place. I don't know :)**

**Review Responses! **

**Princesakarlita411: Haha I could literally hear the "dun dun duuuunn" in my head when I read your review! :) Thank you!**

**phnxgrl: I thought Sarah deserved a little bit revenge/ spot light time! :) Thank you so much!**

**Musicalmania: That's funny, the day I wrote chapter two, which was when I had to come up with the Jacob Bower character, my classmates had actually gotten in an argument over who would win in a fight: Jack Bauer or James Bond. And my teacher had gone on this whole rant about how it would be James Bond because "he would use a button on his sports coat as a bomb, and have a hidden gun sewed into the linen, and then his coat would turn into a sports car that would drive him out into the sunset and make him a martini!" And I guess something about that discussion stuck haha :) Anyway, that's even more unrelated, I'm so happy I got you invested in my story, and I hope I don't disappoint!**

**Drak0: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you're enjoy the story!**

**ljacob: I'm glad you're hooked! And thank you, that means a lot!**

**Elisa100: Oh wow, I didn't know I was capable of getting that reaction! Thank you, I'm glad you like the story!**

**Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I know, I'm a little late, but unfortunately my updates might start to be a little later. It's nothing personal, just summer plans. BTW, Happy Summer everyone! :D**

**So, a bunch of you guys have been speculating over whether Chuck is actually dead or not, and since I have finally heard from both sides, I thought I should write this chapter to hopefully clear things up (or raise more questions. Mwahaha!) Going back to the day of the accident with this one, so keep in mind that this chapter is set a few days in the past.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck.**

Okay, I have to go get some milk at the store, get Stephen a new pacifier, pick up the paperwork from the hospital, get gas in the car; Ellie listed off her errands in her head, realizing that she might have more to do today than she thought. Do the laundry, clean the sheets in the guest bedroom- maybe I should clean the whole room. Did Chuck leave a mess? As Ellie opened the bedroom door, she realized that Chuck did indeed leave another mess. The bed was unmade, with sheets twisted and bunched up in one corner of the bed, and the comforter left neglected on the carpeted floor. The decorative pillows had been tossed in all corners of the room; one had even been trampled on. Upon closer inspection, Ellie saw a pair of Chuck's dress shoes hidden away under one pillow, and at that she threw back her head and groaned.

"Chuck! Would it _kill _you to at least make your bed?" Ellie yelled down the hallway as she began to strip the bed of its linens and unceremoniously toss them into her laundry basket. She listened, expecting a reply. Chuck had to be here somewhere, he didn't have anyone other than Morgan to hang out with, and they normally hung out in the living room. Ellie paused and choked down a laugh and eye-roll as she realized her mistake. She was in Chicago. Not Burbank. And Chuck didn't live with her anymore.

"Oh Ellie," She chided herself. "You need some sleep." The sharp pitch of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts, and, giggling to herself, Ellie set off to the door. Seeing that Devon had already beaten her to the mystery visitor, she decided to go back to the laundry. Okay, I just got to throw this load in, then feed the kids lunch- she looked down at her watch- its twelve-ten, I'm surprised Clara hasn't complained yet. As if on cue, Ellie heard the call of her oldest from down the down the hallway.

"Mooommmyyyy!"

"Yes?"

"When's lunch?"

"Soon!"

As she tossed the last pillowcase into the basket, Ellie heard yet another person call her.

"Honey?"

"Yeah?"

"You might want to come here!"

Resisting the urge to groan, Ellie left the basket on top of the washing machine and joined her husband at the front door, where she found him staring intently at the caller. The person before her was a well-built middle-aged man who was slightly shorter than Devon with light brown hair. "Can I help you?"

"Dr. Woodcomb?" The man asked, even though he was sure of her identity. As Ellie looked closer, she saw that he seemed slightly frazzled. His hair was tousled, and he had a long gash along the side of his face. He was also cradling his arm protectively against his side.

"Yes?" She replied distractedly as she continued to analyze the stranger.

"Dr. Woodcomb, my name is David Smith. I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news regarding your brother, Charles Bartowski."

"Chuck?" She said, stepping out of the house. She motioned Devon to do the same, but instead he declined and said he was going to make the kids their lunch. He closed the door behind him as Ellie engaged in conversation. "What happened?"

"M 'am, your brother was found in a wrecked car at eleven-fifty this morning on the expressway leading into town." Ellie's hand instinctively went over her mouth and her breath caught in her throat; the stranger's appearance instantly forgotten. Not her brother, anyone but her brother. "I am an intern at the hospital, and I was sent by the head doctor of the ER to ask if you wished to help treat your brother and, if so, to personally escort you to the hospital. After your brother had been identified by a State Trooper and ambulance had been sent out minutes before me, and if we leave now we might catch them before they arrive in the ER."

"Of course… one moment please." Ellie gasped, trying to wrap her mind around the whole situation as she ran back inside and grabbed her purse. "Devon!" She called, stuffing her wallet, keys, and hospital badge in her bag. "Devon! I have to-"

"I know!" He called. Ellie turned in the direction of his voice, and soon found herself caught in her husband's arms. She found that she was struggling to keep down tears.

"Devon! Chuck is, is hurt! I have to go, right now. Oh, but the kids, and I have so much to do-"

"I know babe, its okay. Don't worry, I'll watch the kids and run your errands for you."

"Thank you," She said, burying her head in his chest. Ellie soon sniffled and looked up, saddened when Devon released her.

"Go." He said, his ever-present smile shinning on his face. She gave his hand a squeeze and raced out the door, her medically-trained eyes seeking out the intern's car.

"Let's go."

o O o

During the drive to the hospital, Ellie was relieved to hear that it sounded as if Chuck had only received minor injuries.

"Now- according to the Trooper- he only had a few scratches along his face, and his right foot was bent at a funny angle. He was also unconscious, and had occasional spasms, as if he was in pain… according to the Trooper!"

"Thanks, David." Ellie breathed in relief as she looked out the window. They were about five minutes from the hospital.

"Here they are now," The intern said as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. Soon, an ambulance sped past them and turned right at the next light; completing its journey to the hospital. The car took off in quick pursuit and stopped behind the ambulance. Ellie mumbled her thanks and stumbled out of the car- just in time to see Chuck being wheeled into the hospital on a gurney. She stopped and took a deep breath; He's just another patient, he's just another patient, she told herself. When Ellie deemed herself calm enough, she stepped through the sliding doors and met the commotion in the Emergency Room. Seeing that Chuck had been moved onto a bed and was being observed by a team of three nurses headed by one doctor, Ellie decided to take the opportunity to conduct her own observation.

"His body only seemed to have suffered minor injuries! I don't understand why he isn't up and walking!"

"His cranium is intact- no concussions or problematic scratches."

"Ribs are fine; nothing going on that should be affecting his breathing."

"Then why is he sweating? Why is his breathing labored?"

"Pump his stomach." Ellie said, the problem already figured out. These guys are idiots, she scolded as her fingers lightly brushed against the bruise along the side of her brother's neck.

"What?" The head ER doctor- an older, bald man with gray hair and a thin figure named Dr. Sans- asked impatiently. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Ellie took the man's hand and brought it to Chuck's neck.

"You feel this? He was stabbed with something- if you look closely you will see that his skin has been punctured. Considering that his body only sustained minor injuries, he should be fine. Instead, he is sweating profusely, running a temperature, and has trouble breathing. Do you want to tell me that those aren't obvious signs that he has something in his system, such as poison?" Ellie hissed, the entire team staring at her by the time she had finished. When no one moved, she stormed over to the supplies and searched for the charcoal. "Pump his stomach!"

Dr. Sans snapped to attention and began ordering the rest of his staff around, mentally smacking himself for not seeing the signs earlier. After five minutes at work they were rewarded with small coughs from Chuck, who was then rolled onto his side to prevent asphyxiation, and soon followed by him hurling his entire stomach's contents into a conveniently placed bucket. Exhausted and shocked back into consciousness, he fell back onto the bed and coughed tiredly.

"Chuck!" Ellie cried, taking her brother's face in her hands. "Chuck, look at me! Don't go to sleep! We only got some of the poison out of your system, we need you to tell me what you were injected with so we can get a cure. Chuck, can you hear me?"

He stared up at the ceiling, probably because it was a solid surface and he needed to calm his swimming vision, and then he squeezed his eyes shut and thought hard. What happened?

"Chuck, don't close your eyes, I can't let you go to sleep. Now, what drug were you injected with?"

Drug? What drug, Chuck didn't remember any drug. He remembered a syringe, filled with something… harmful. Idiot, he thought, that's the exact definition of a drug. But what was it? Something familiar, something he's dealt with before. But he's dealt with tons of drugs and poisons in the past. Okay think, think… It starts with a P… pent-a something… pentagon, penta… pento? Pentothal!

"Pentothal!" He choked out, frowning at the taste in his mouth and coughing hard. "A… tampered-with… concentrated… version…"

"Okay, I got it, thanks!" Ellie said, grabbing a nearby nurse and instructing her to go get an antidote. "Chuck, Chuck don't fall asleep, okay?"

"Okay, Sis." Chuck muttered, his eyelid's struggling to stay open. The nurse returned with a filled syringe, and Ellie quickly administered it. Already, Chuck felt a tingling sensation run through his body, and his throat slowly opened up. The sweating stopped, and he could feel the cool rag that he realized had been against his forehead from the moment he entered in the hospital. He took in a deep breath, thankful for the air filling his lungs and relieving his aching chest.

"How do you feel?" Ellie asked as she checked his vitals. Pulse was steady, breathing returned to normal, body temperature creeping back down; she rattled off the mental list of things to look for.

"Better," He sighed, turning his head and looking at her fully for the first time. "Thanks, Sis."

Ellie smiled in relief and grabbed his hand. "Don't scare me like that again."

Chuck nodded, and the two siblings simply basked in each other's presence; happy to be alive.

"Excuse me, Dr. Woodcomb?" Dr. Sans interrupted. "We're going to wheel the patient to X-Ray and get him situated in a room; I'd like to keep him overnight for observation."

Ellie nodded in agreement and turned to Chuck. "I'll check on you later, okay? You can tell me what happened then."

"Yeah," Chuck sighed as he settled back onto the bed. "I'll talk to you later."

As Ellie watched her brother being wheeled off to X-Rays, it suddenly hit her how close they could've come to losing him. And on her watch! If Chuck had died, and she had been unable to help-

"Ellie?" Called a low, gruff voice. She turned and was met by none other than John Casey.

"Casey," She said, hardly believing her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for Chuck," He replied. "I heard about the accident and came as soon as I could. What happened?"

Ellie took the next five minutes to fill Casey in on what happened, what injuries Chuck had, what she did to save him, and anything she had noticed before he left her house. Casey then voiced his suspicions, however grim they may have been.

"An assassination attempt." Ellie repeated in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Frankly, Chuck has pissed off a lot of people in the past what with the," He looked around, and leaned closer, lowering his voice, "_Intersect _and everything. Whoever this guy is, he's probably not the only person with a grudge."

"Oh my God…" Ellie said, the full realization suddenly reaching her mind. "Casey, someone just tried to _kill _my brother! What are we going to do? Who did it? How are you going to find them?"

"We're working on that, don't worry I requested a security agent to come and guard his room until we can move him to a move secure area, where he will wait out the investigation until the perp. is caught and then Bartowski will be safe to return home. He'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Ellie asked.

"Positive."

After a few more moment's thought, Ellie decided that out of all of Chuck and Sarah's friends, Casey can be trusted the most. "Okay. I'm going to check on Chuck."

Casey grunted in response and Ellie set off for Chuck's room. If only she wasn't stopped before she got there.

"Dr. Woodcomb." A voice called from, of all locations, a janitors closet.

"David?" Ellie asked, recognizing the intern who had driven her to the hospital. "What are you-"

She was cut off by the barrel of a gun pressed against her neck.

"I need you to do me a favor."

o O o

It was raining. Not 'let's water the plants and replenish the water-supply in Lake Michigan' rain. The 'let's flood the streets, cave-in weak roofs, and scare every child and dog in a twenty-mile radius' kind of rain. Thunder erupted through the skies and shook buildings soon after the lightening lit up the stormy afternoon. It was the kind of rain that set the stage for a tragedy.

Ellie's hand shook as she approached Chuck's room. Deep in her pocket was yet another syringe. Only, this one would finish the job.

Don't think that Ellie didn't try, she tried so hard. After completing Jack's (as she later found out his name to be) first task, she ran into a linen closet and called Devon. She forgot that cell service wouldn't be very good in the middle of a closet, and had only managed to choke out a few words before she was caught. Afterwards, Jack promised that because of her actions, two of his most brutal men were on their way to Ellie's house at that very moment to guard her family, and if she made anymore slip ups he only had to say that word and she'd never see them again.

So Ellie made her choice. Chuck's life for her husband's and two children's.

As she entered the room, a flash of lightening illuminated the area, casting an eerie white light on Chuck's sleeping form. I wonder if they do see a white light, Ellie briefly wondered before shaking her head of such thoughts and pushing herself forward. She grasped the IV line with a shaking hand, and before she could stop herself Ellie dug out the syringe and plunged the contents into Chuck's IV.

Chuck awoke with a gasp and stared strangely at his suddenly-burning hand. What was going on? Meanwhile, his free hand clutched his heart and he realized that his throat was once again closing up, and he was having trouble breathing.

"Help," He gasped, looking around wildly. Finally, his eyes landed on his sister. "Ellie?"

"I'm sorry," Ellie whispered, tears freely streaming down her face.

"Ellie, wha-?" A sudden pain struck his chest, and Chuck realized he couldn't breathe at all. His vision took on a white, hazy border, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. So, he mused, this is what it feels like to die. He squeezed his eyes shut and clutched his sheets, hoping, praying that it'll all be over soon. As Chuck lost his senses to the blackness, he heard Ellie mutter one last thing:

"_Aces, Charles… You're aces…_"

**Damn. Depressing. And I realized that this chapter doesn't exactly coincide with Chapter 3 (specifically with Casey's version of the story), but I'll go back and fix that later. BTW, I know that the whole 'thunderstorm during a tragedy' thing is totally cliché and overused, but… come on, how could I resist? :) And I promise, next chapter, we'll return to Sarah's POV in present day. Don't forget to Review! (Oh! And if I could get more than five reviews, that'd be awesome! Kthnxbye!)**

**Review Replies:**

**Princesakarlita411: I hope this was worth the wait!**

**UKChuckster: I know, I missed hearing from you! And that's good; I was kind of worried about the pacing. Thank you!**

**E5150Julian: Maybe this chapter gave you a little satisfaction :) Thank you!**

**Musicalmania: Since it is Summer, I'm going to have a lot more time to type, so I should have faster updates!**

**Eric425: I had always wondered that too, and this is in no way an unused story idea, it's just that other people who have used this prompt would always ruin it by saying (in the beginning or middle of the story!) that one character is actually alive when they were thought to be dead, so you can't really get yourself in the proper mindset of Chuck/Sarah never seeing each other again, because you know it's not true. With this story, I'm at least trying to keep y'all guessing :)**

**Review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Guys, just, wow. I asked for five, I got ten reviews (Even though one of them was posted twice). Thanks you guys! And, we're reaching the climax of the story! I know this hasn't been the longest or most complex story out there, but keep in mind, it's my first story, and you guys have made me feel awesome about it. I'm actually planning a sequel… if you're interested. Happy Reading!**

**Disclaimer: Damn I wish I owned Chuck… but alas, I don't. Sigh.**

Jacob was angry. No, that was an understatement; Jacob was fuming. He had sent those two men to guard the Woodcomb's because they were the best. They weren't only the best, they were his friends.

One of them was named Harold Kenny.

Harold was Jacob's partner when he had first gotten into Fulcrum. They did everything together; interrogations, assassinations, kidnappings, torturings, chasings; everything. He became one of Jacob's closest friends; well, as close as two employees working for a government-known organization Hell-bent on ruling the world can get.

The other was named Luke Johnson.

Luke was Jacob's mentor. When Jacob was first recruited by Fulcrum, Luke taught him everything. It was Luke who told Jacob that the government was wrong, and Fulcrum's idea of ruling the world was right. And it was that philosophy that Jacob lived by for the rest of his life.

When Fulcrum, and eventually the Ring, fell, everyone was either arrested, killed, or on the lam. Through old connections, Jacob eventually tracked down his friend and mentor. He asked them to watch a family for him while he set his plan into motion. He promised them riches, world domination, a new house; he promised them their life back.

Instead, he had them killed.

Jacob's fist tightened against the steering wheel as he mentally kicked himself for that thought. No! He didn't kill them! It was _her_. The wife. Although one of them did take the poisoned capsule that he gave them just in case the wife did show up. He supposed he could blame himself for that one- No! Not even that one! It was _her_ who pushed him to take the capsule; he gave it to them as a _last option_.

It didn't matter now. His plan was too far in motion to fail. As Jacob steered the car down to Lower Wacker Drive, he allowed himself one small smirk at the task at hand. All he needed to do was make a couple of phone calls, and his friends will be avenged.

o O o

Sarah carefully tucked one lone strand of blonde hair underneath her bright red wig, and dug around her bag in search for the items needed to complete her disguise. She and Casey were leaning against the banister that separated them from the un-normally choppy Chicago River, waiting for Jacob Bower to make his appearance at the payphone on Lower Wacker Drive. Hiding herself from the prying eyes of the underground road, along with anyone who would come down earlier than expected, behind a pillar located next to the banister, Sarah fished out her compact and looked at the finished disguise.

The reflection showed her a woman with bright red hair that fell just passed her shoulders, and a pale face sprinkled with red freckles, complete with dull blue eyes. She wore a black leather jacket with a red tank top underneath, dark skinny jeans, and a pair of black Chuck Converse. On the outside, she seemed to be a very attractive and fairly young woman who was in Chicago simply on vacation. But if you looked closer, you could see small bags under her eyes that told of lack of sleep, and that her eyes were not as bright as they could potentially look. She looked like a woman who was not always fun and games, a woman who had baggage, and who wouldn't willingly tell you about it.

Sarah, frustrated that her disguise didn't look like it would be able to work as well as she thought, slapped her compact shut and placed a well aimed kick at her bag, which was sitting innocently on the ground. Casey raised a brow in her direction, but wisely kept his mouth shut. As she looked down to survey the damage done to her bag and its contents, she saw a pair of sunglasses tumble out. After bending down and placing the glasses on her face, Sarah opened her mirror again and judged the new addition to her disguise. Determining that the glasses hid the worst of her giveaways, she calmly closed her compact and bent down to pick up her bag and the rest of its spilt contents.

"Sarah?" Casey asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you really planning on wearing those glasses, here? Underground? Where there is no light?" He asked skeptically.

Sarah looked around and realized that Casey was right. It was that time of the day where daylight was no longer streaming through the open wall revealing the river, and it looked stupid anyway to be wearing glasses on an underground road. She sighed, realizing that Casey was right and she would have to take off the glasses to avoid suspicion, when she was struck with a solution.

"What if I am blind?" Sarah asked.

"What?" Casey grunted, looking at her like she had just grown a second head.

"What if I am blind? What if I'm blind and I'm wearing the glasses to cover my eyes?"

"Where is your cane, or service dog?" Casey asked, glad he saw a hitch in her excuse.

"That's why I'm here, I lost my cane and I wandered down here looking for a phone to call someone to help me." Sarah explained, now fully satisfied in her story.

"Okay," Casey said after a moment's consideration. "That could work."

Sarah smiled and adjusted her wig and glasses, and then peered around the column to look at the payphone across the street. This is it; this is the moment she had been waiting for all week. The moment where she'd get to catch the man who took her husband from her and her family, look him in the eye, and kill him.

She thought back to her reflection, those haunted eyes that stared back at her. How had things gotten so bad? Sarah lost her husband, Devon and his children were held captive, Ellie was kidnapped, Morgan and Alex were probably living in total paranoia and fear, and Mary had the stress of guarding her granddaughter and deceased sons best friends from an attack that she didn't even know was coming or not. Whatever happened to the random dinner parties, the game nights, catching Ellie and Devon role-playing in Castle, watching each other's children, throwing parties in the courtyard; what happened?

Maybe it was because of the spying.

Sarah remembered when Stephen Bartowski died. Ellie had been so distraught, so scared. She insisted that Chuck quit the spy life, and Chuck agreed. When he rejoined, it wasn't by choice. It took death for Chuck and Ellie to realize that the spy life is dangerous, and if they valued everything they had, none of them should be involved.

It took Chuck's death for Sarah to realize that now.

"Sarah," Casey's gruff voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "He's here."

Sarah stiffened, and fished inside of her pocket for the tracker she was supposed to plant on Jacob. As much as she would love to just pull out her gun and kill him now, they need to find Ellie. And he will lead them to her.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves and clear her thoughts, Sarah stepped off of the curb and began to cautiously cross the street. The walk was long, much longer than she had anticipated. More than once she thought he was about to leave and that she had missed her chance, but each time she had to hold in a sigh of relief when she realized he was just making another call. When she was close enough, Sarah reached in her pocket and positioned the tracker properly in her hand.

Slowly, she reached out her hand, and was so close to touching his shoulder- until he spun around. The look in his eye was so maddening, so frightening, it took every ounce of her self control not to react to his sudden movement.

"Hello?" She asked in a hopefully curious voice. "I'm sorry, is there a phone somewhere around here? I was told by that man across the street that there is a payphone somewhere in this area."

He blinked at her, and looked as though he was determining whether to trust her or not, before a slow, almost sickening smile spread across his face.

"I'm actually using it now, would you mind if I finished my call?" Jacob asked.

"Of course," She said, and then stepped back to give him his privacy. Her ears strained as she listened to the end of his conversation.

"Okay, so, um, you understand? Good. Be there as soon as you can, you will be met by the other… parties. Okay, bye."

Sarah blinked as she tried to understand what that conversation could have meant. Was he trying to recruit more henchmen?

"Miss?" He asked. Sarah looked up and saw that he was standing to her left. Slipping her hands behind her back, she hastily switched the tracker to her left hand and smiled.

"Thank you," She said as her hand brushed against his shoulder. Success. Now all she had to do was make a fake phone call. Dialing the first number that came to her head, Sarah fought the rising the urge to turn around and watch Jacob leave. She realized that her back was facing him, and that she was practically begging him to attack her. But that was only if he suspected her, but why would he, she was convincing enough, right? Sarah, calm down, she told herself. Suddenly, she heard the voice of someone she thought she would never hear again.

"Hello, you have reached Chuck-"

"-and Sarah-"

"-and Emma Bartowski."

"Sorry we're not hear right now-"

"-but please leave your name and number after the beep."

"_Beep!_" She heard the two voices say in unison. Sarah's eyes began to water of their own accord, and she hastily tried to keep her composure, seeing that Jacob, for some reason, still hasn't left.

"Um, hey guys." She said into the receiver, hoping her voice sounded convincing enough. "It's… me. Listen, I'm in the city, and I lost my cane, I'm… uh, excuse me, where am I?"

"Lower Wacker Drive," Jacob, who still hasn't left, responded.

"Lower, thank you, Lower Wacker Drive. Could you possibly pick me up?" She paused, pretending that someone was responding. "Really? Thank you, I'll just stay here. Okay, bye."

Sarah returned the receiver, and turned around. Jacob was still there. He was just standing there, staring at her. He almost looked like he was waiting.

"Thanks again, I'm, obviously, very lost." She explained.

"It's not a problem." He replied. Sarah smiled and reached around for her bag. Suddenly, she felt something hard strike against the side of her head, and Sarah collapsed on the ground. The room was spinning, and she tasted blood in her mouth. He kicked her.

"Come on, get up," Jacob demanded as he reached down and pulled Sarah up. She struggled against him, but found herself too disoriented to do anything that could really knock him out. Soon, he had her arms pinned behind her back, and was searching through her pockets and bag for any weapons. "You think I didn't notice that tracker you planted on me?" He asked as he picked the tracker off of his shoulder and flicked it away. Jacob started to lead them toward the railing overlooking the river. "I expected more from the wife of the Intersect. Didn't you put up a pretty good fight against Mr. Colt? What happened to you?"

"Freeze!" Casey called, emerging from behind the pillar with his gun raised. "Let her go or I'll shoot."

Jacob looked at Casey as if he was seriously considering Casey's two options, before a slow smile crept to his lips. "Not likely."

Jacob's arm shot out, and Sarah didn't realize until it was too late that he had her gun. The shot fired through the air, and accurately struck Casey in the shoulder. His face drained of all color, and Sarah heard herself shouting as he struck the pavement.

Sarah gasped as she felt herself being pulled back. It wasn't until she saw Casey's face fly pass her that she realized she and Jacob were flying through the air towards the Chicago River. Seconds later the hard impact of cold water robbed Sarah's lungs of all air, and she desperately struggled toward the surface. Bubbles clouded her vision, and Sarah had no idea which direction to swim towards. When her vision finally cleared, she began to swim away from Jacob.

Her lungs were burning, but she ignored her instincts and kept swimming. Just when she thought she was safe, Sarah felt a hand wrap around her ankle and pull her back. Turning around, she saw that not only did Jacob have a hold of her, but he had gotten a chance to breathe. Already her vision was clouding, but Sarah found the energy to place a firm kick in his chest and relieve him of any air he had in his lungs, and free herself. Instead of swimming away, Sarah swam up, knowing she wouldn't get too far without any air. Cold wind slapped her cheeks, and air was sucked to her lungs so fast it hurt. Suddenly, Jacob splashed up behind her and grabbed her in a tight choke hold. Sarah was just planning her next attack, when they were interrupted-

"What the hell are you two doing?" Sarah looked up to see two police officers staring down at them from their patrol boat.

"He-" Sarah started, but was interrupted when she felt a piece of fabric being pushed inside her mouth. She realized that she had just been gagged with Jacob's tie.

"Officers," He shouted up, giving them both a curt nod. "May we board?"

After receiving permission, Sarah was all but dragged aboard the boat.

"Who's this?" One of the officers asked.

"Sir, my name is Jacob Smith of the CIA," Sarah rolled her eyes, knowing that no one would fall for his story… until he pulled a very real, very wet, and very official CIA badge from his pocket. Where the hell did he- "This girl is a known fugitive, we've been chasing her for weeks. By the way, may I borrow some handcuffs? She threw mine in the river."

The officer looked as though he was about to deny Jacob, until he was once again shown the badge.

"What's with the gag?" He asked as he handed over the handcuffs and key.

"She's a rogue spy who specializes in telling lies and convincing others of her version of the truth- look, I would tell you more, but this is very top secret. Could you please dock so I can take her under my custody and back to my superiors?"

Sarah stared at the officer, and tried her best to plead with him though her eyes, but soon saw it was in vain when he gave the command to dock the boat.

"Thank you very much, you guys are doing a fine job," Jacob praised. He then turned back to Sarah and shot her the most evil smirk he could manage. "This way."

"Oh! Can I borrow a car?"

o O o

Ten minutes later found Sarah still handcuffed and still gagged in the back of a police car heading God-knows-where, and _still held captive by Jacob Bower_. The man who not only killed her husband, but shot her partner of eight years. Casey was okay, he has to be okay. It's just a shoulder wound, Sarah convinced herself.

Jacob, who had just finished uninstalling the tracker system on the police car, looked at Sarah from the rearview mirror and smiled. "I bet your wondering where we're going."

He flicked away the bug, turned off the tracking system in the car- what am I supposed to do? Think Sarah, think! A solution suddenly hit her, and she mentally kicked herself for not realizing this sooner. Her bracelet had a built in tracking device. As she fumbled around with her bracelet behind her back, she realized that Jacob was still talking.

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you."

Jacob's arm swung out, and Sarah lost her senses to darkness.

**I end a lot of chapters with people passing out or dying, don't I? I should probably think of more creative endings. Oh well :) Please, please, please don't forget to review!**

**Review Replies:**

**E5150Julian: That's awesome, thank you!**

**Princesakarlita411: Sorry it took longer than I wanted, hope you liked it!**

**phnxgrl: Thank you! And it is sad, but it was also necessary ;)**

**ursookrazie: I missed writing for Chuck! That probably made Chapter 7 one of my favorite chapters to write :) By the way, I loovve your pen name!**

**UKChuckster: Well that episode was defiantly a huge inspiration, although I, of course, made my own alternations to the general plot line. Just, keep that in mind :)**

**Hotski: Thank you! And I'm happy you've liked the story so far!**

**ljacob: Thanks so much, I'm really glad to hear that!**

**Musicalmania: Oh wow, when you say it like that… haha, thank you, it means a lot!**

**Eric425: That's a good guess haha :) I'll be sure to check out your story as soon as possible, and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

**Thanks again you guys! Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys! So, on Saturday Imma be leaving for a three week music camp in App State, and we were told that there wouldn't be a lot of time to get on the Internet, and that we shouldn't bring personal computers and… yeah. Sounds like unless I find the time to squeeze in another chapter before I leave, y'all are looking at a three-week wait. On the bright side, I'll become a better violinist! Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Chuck… or any of the other movies referenced in this chapter…**

"Amy? …. Ellen? …. How about Anna? Oh! Hey, babe! The baby likes Anna!" Alex cried from her ridiculously comfortable position on the couch. She was sitting upright with her feet propped up on the parallel coffee table, a pillow underneath to avoid the hard wood. There was another couch pillow nestled against each side of her body, and a large blanket covered her body. Currently, her hand was resting on her swollen belly, and she was feeling around for kicks.

"How do you know the baby likes Anna?" Morgan asked as he walked into the room, Emma perched on his shoulders. His words were almost drowned out by her delighted cries of "Go horsey! Go!", but he spoke up, desperate to at least get some sort of say in the baby-naming process. "And why are you so sure it's a she?"

"Because, I've been sitting here for the past ten minutes rattling off baby names, and every time I say a name the baby likes, they kick!" Seeing that Morgan wasn't completely convinced, she threw back the blanket and pulled her shirt up to her breasts, her stomach completely exposed. "Here, watch. Anna!"

Suddenly, a lump appeared on the left side of her stomach, rippling the rest of the skin, and just as quickly as it appeared, it left. Morgan, his face expressing his surprise and excitement, brought Emma down from his shoulders and set her on the ground.

"Unckie Morgan! I don't wanna come down!" Emma protested, crossing her arms and forming a pouting look on her face.

"Sorry, sweetie, go get some candy and a soda from the kitchen." Morgan replied distractedly with a wave as he sat next to his wife. Emma squealed in delight and left, while Morgan started to gently rub Alex's stomach. "Want to try out some other names? Boy names, for example?"

Alex raised an eyebrow, "You've thought of names?"

"Well, yeah. Of course." Morgan replied with a shrug.

"Such as?"

"Luke?"

"No."

"But why?"

"Morgan," Alex said with a knowing look. "I'm sure we all know why you want to name the baby Luke."

"What? What, no! That's, that's absolutely ridi- you know what! Ever since I was little, it was my dream to grow up, marry a beautiful woman, have a son and name them Luke."

"And you want to do this so?"

"So I can say 'Luke I am your father.'" Morgan finally admitted. Alex smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Sorry, babe. What else do you got?"

"How about…" Morgan's face suddenly lit up, and he cautiously looked over at Alex. "Marty?"

"Marty." Alex repeated. Suddenly, another bulge was seen on her stomach, and Morgan broke out in a wide grin.

"Aha! The baby likes it! That's it, that's our boy name!" Morgan almost shouted. Alex furrowed her brow and looked as though she was trying to recall something.

"Marty, Marty… where have I heard that name before?" Alex asked.

"No idea, so that's it! Anna or Marty!"

"No, I know you! It has to be a character from some eighties movie or some video game or something!"

"Damn," Morgan cursed under his breath.

"Unckie Morgan!"

"Morgan!"

The man in question looked up to see Mary looking at him from the kitchen doorway with Emma on her hip, while Emma was clutching a large lollypop and soda like it was her last meal.

"Sorry sweetie, didn't mean to curse. Yes, Mrs. B?"

"Why the hell does Emma think she's allowed to have candy and soda thirty minutes before dinner?" Mary asked forcefully. Morgan shuddered as he suddenly remembered that she was a trained assassin.

"Gwandma!" Emma shrieked, a look of pure horror and slight disapproval on her face.

"Sorry, sweetie, no more cursing, I promise! Well, Morgan?"

"I… I-uh, ah I have… no idea?" He squeaked, his pitiful excuse coming out as a question.

"She said you said that she can have it." Mary pressed, her gaze, if possible, hardening.

"Well, um I-"

"_Back to the Future_!"Alex cried, attempting to stand up. Realizing that wouldn't happen, she sunk back into the couch and settled on a finger wag. "You're trying to name our baby after Marty from _Back to the Future_!"

"It's a good name!" Morgan cried. "And the baby agrees with me! You know what, when you guys are done being mad at me, give me a call! I'll be outside."

Mumbling under his breath and grabbing his jacket, Morgan prepared to dramatically take his leave when he heard Alex call after him.

"Babe, can you take out the garbage!"

Taking a deep breath to subdue the frustration over his now-ruined moment, Morgan turned around with a smile on his face and an overly cheerful, "Of course, dear!" Charging back into the kitchen, he not only tied the garbage bag and lifted it out of the bin, but snagged a bottle of beer from the fridge, and then made his dramatic leave from the apartment.

After completing his chore, Morgan found himself sitting on the edge of the fountain in the center of the courtyard, nursing one of the remaining sources of alcohol the entire house had to offer. Because of the whole pregnancy, obviously wine and beer were a little scarce in the household, especially since Morgan wanted to be the good husband who roughed through the nine-month dry spell with his wife. But on nights like these… Morgan decided to finish that thought with another swig.

Wife. The whole 'husband and wife' thing still made him smile, even though they've been married for the past year. It wasn't anything big; in fact, if Morgan had had his way, they would've tied the knot at a magistrate's office, or in front of an Elvis look-alike in Vegas. But their wedding was pretty nice. Like Ellie and Awesome's, the ceremony was on a beach, and only immediate family and close friends had attended. It was very relaxed; the girls wore sundresses while the men wore khakis and white shirts. Alex got to wear her white dress and veil, while Morgan wore a fancy Hawaiian-print button down and khakis. The reception was at their favorite restaurant, and the wedding party ate shrimp and danced the night away. It really was a good wedding.

As a wedding gift, Chuck had tracked down the DeLorean Morgan had purchased many years ago and managed to talk the owner into letting him rent the car for the bride and groom's honeymoon. Morgan smiled; Chuck had done a lot for him that short year ago. Not only had he managed to find the DeLorean, but he took his role as best man very seriously. The ring would have probably been gambled away at Morgan's bachelor party in Vegas had Chuck not held on to it. The party had been pretty kickass too. Not only that, but the year before that Chuck had helped Morgan secure the apartment after he and a then-pregnant Sarah moved out to live in their dream house.

Now Morgan and a pregnant Alex live in that apartment. The idea of fatherhood still scared him shitless, but he has slowly begun to realize that maybe he could handle it. Morgan had babysat Clara and Emma when they were babies, and he hadn't been half-bad at it either. But to raise a child; to be responsible for their every action, to fed them, bathe them, care for them, influence their lives and help determine what kind of person they'll be when they grow up- it's heavy stuff. Ha.. heavy… Marty… get it? Chuck would've gotten it, Morgan thought as he once again raised the bottle to his lips.

Thinking back to everything he had done for him, Morgan realized that Chuck had made a huge difference in his life. Honestly, if it weren't for him, Morgan probably wouldn't have anything he has today. He'd probably still live with his mother, not have met his wife, and been a deadbeat working at the Buy More; maybe not even as a manager!

He actually really missed Chuck. He was Morgan's best friend, his wingman, his partner in crime. This whole thing feels like a horrible dream, a nightmare. But every day Morgan was slowly realizing that this is his life now. A life without his brother. And he would never admit this, but Emma didn't make things much easier. She sleeps in Chuck's old bedroom, she has his curly hair and charming smile, and she's even developing his sense of humor. Emma also found her father's Hans Solo figurine. Ever since she found it and Morgan told her it was her dads, Emma walks around with it all the time. She doesn't understand the full meaning of the figurine, or even who the character is, but it still brought some comfort to Morgan. Chuck may be gone, but he left behind one hell of a replacement.

No! Morgan scolded himself as he took another generous sip. No, he wasn't replacing his best friend with his best friend's daughter, that wasn't right. She was… a reminder, yeah go with that. Chuck may be gone, but he left behind one hell of a reminder. Satisfied with his new closing statement, Morgan took another swig of his IPA and turned around to look at the apartment.

To his surprise, there were two men approaching the front door. Morgan had seen enough undercover assassins, or kidnappers, or agents, or just plain spies, to be suspicious, and, sticking to the shadows, he carefully crept behind the two strangers. The possibility crossed his mind that they might be Gertrude's guards, who, he realized with a start, hadn't arrived yet, but he decided to remain cautious for now. Soon, he was close enough to hear their conversation.

"Are you sure this is the place?" One asked.

"I'm sure, it's written right here." The other replied.

"Okay, let's do this." The first man raised his hand knocked on the door. Morgan looked down in confusion. Who are these guys? They seemed way too suspicious to be the good guys. A pitched shriek broke his thoughts, and Morgan saw with horror that one of the men had a gun, and it was pointed at his wife. Let's rephrase that, his _pregnant _wife. No longer confused and terrified, Morgan stepped out of the shadows and broke his beer bottle over the head of the first man, who dropped like a rock.

"Aha!" Morgan laughed; never tired of the feeling he was rewarded with whenever he took down a bad guy trying to hurt his family or friends. The other man turned and pointed his gun at him, while Morgan raised the now shattered bottle neck and tried to look intimidating.

"Drop it." The man ordered.

"How about you leave before you taste the same medicine your friend down there had?" Morgan wittingly replied.

The man released the safety.

"Okay, okay how about we talk this out? You want a beer? Oh… wait, sorry dude this is the last one. We have soda! You wanna soda pop?"

"He's lost his mind." Alex whispered, now standing, and clutching Emma to her side.

"No, he's doing what he does best." Mary muttered.

"What's that?" Alex asked, never taking her eyes off the gun that is aimed at her husband's chest.

"Stalling." Alex turned and saw that Mary had raised her own gun, and she turned Emma's face to her stomach and closed her eyes.

"You have until the count of three." The man continued.

"I offered you a beverage…"

"One."

"I invited you inside my home…"

"Two."

"I don't know what you want from me!"

"Three."

BAM!

Morgan gasped and clutched around his chest. His breathing came out short and shallow, while his eyes were screwed shut. Soon, he realized that there was no pain, along with no gaping hole in his chest or even a hint of blood.

"No pain… no hole… no blood… Okay guys, I'm okay!" Morgan called to his family with a thumb up. Felling a weird pressure on his foot, Morgan looked down to see that the head of the now-dead attacker had landed on his foot. His attached neck and the rest of his limbs were sprawled out on the ground, and an alarmingly amount of blood was seeping from the wound in his chest. Morgan released his foot with a look of total disgust on his face, "Ewww… it's okay guys, he's dead!"

"Grandma…" Emma said, her horrified eyes the size of saucers as she looked down on the two bodies; one dead, one unconscious. "Wha… whats gwoing on?"

"Oh, honey!" Mary cried as she realized how horrible this probably looked to a two-year-old. Sinking down to her height and pocketing the gun, Mary grabbed her granddaughter in a tight embrace and tried to think of a reasonable explanation. "Sweetie, do you remember the movie _The Little Mermaid_?"

Emma nodded, and Mary continued. "Do you remember how the evil witch… thing, um… Ursula? Yeah, Ursula had tried to kill Ariel and… her prince? And they had to kill Ursula to save themselves?" Another nod. "Well, honey that's kinda what happened here. These men tried to ki- uh, hurt us. So we had to, kind of hurt them to save ourselves."

"But hwe's dead!"

"I know sweetie, and all I can really say is you'll understand when you're older."

At that moment, two men ran into the courtyard, their weapons in plain sight. Mary swiftly pulled out her gun, while Morgan bent down and took the dead man's gun. Alex gently led Emma behind her back and Mary swiftly grabbed the discarded bottle neck and handed it to the soon-to-be mother.

"Freeze!" Mary called out. The two men actually stopped and raised their hands in the air. "State your name and purpose."

"Agent twenty-two and Agent twenty-three." The first man called out. "We were sent by Gertrude to guard this residence."

"Well it took you two long enough!" Mary hissed, pocketing her gun and gesturing towards the two men at her feet.

"Right, my colleague will do clean up, and I will escort you to a secure location. Do you have a place in mind?"

"I do," Morgan spoke up. "We can go to Castle. It was basically made for this kind of situation."

"Okay, let's get packed and go." Mary said. She looked back down to Emma. "Honey, do you want to put a backpack together of your favorite toys and maybe a jacket or your pajamas?"

Emma slowly nodded then ran to the direction of her room. Her two Barbie dolls, a fistful of their clothes, her favorite skirt, her princess nightgown, and a coloring book, all stuffed in her _Tangled _themed backpack. She was just about to leave when she saw the Hans Solo doll on the bed. Running back, she grabbed the doll and her blanket. Emma doesn't know why, but she felt compelled to take the doll… and her favorite blanket.

Rejoining her family in the living room, Emma saw that everyone else was ready to go also.

"Okay, let's go." Mary ordered, shouldering a backpack full of food and preparing to lead everyone out. She stopped when she heard a sickening sound of water hitting the floor, and everyone turned to see Alex standing there, arms wrapped around her stomach, and a sheepish grin on her face.

"Uh oh."

**Just in case that was a little confusing, yes, Alex is going into labor. Exciting, I know! So if I can maybe get five reviews for this chapter, that'll be spectacular. Love you guys!**

**Review Replies:**

**Princesakarlita411: Gah, the suspense! Haha! :)**

** : I know, I guess I kinda lied when I categorized this under romance. My bad!**

**ursookrazie: Thanks! I really love stories with suspense and twists, so I'm glad to hear that I'm doing it right :)**

**Eric425: I totally forgot about that quote! It's so true, there's just something about writing Casey that begs him to be shot, or at least shot at, I don't really know why! Probably because he's tough and we figure that he can take it haha**

**Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys! Long time no see! For those of you who were wondering, camp was amazing! Honestly, it made this the best summer of my life! And now, not only am I better violinist, but I can play the viola, and read alto clef, and I found out I'm a soprano singer! Who knew? Anywho, I figured it's about time we moved on with the story, so expect things to wrap up shortly. Thank you all for sticking with me, honestly it means a lot!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

"Let's go in through the lockers," Mary suggested as the group busted through the doors of the Buy More. "It'll be less strenuous for Alex than going down the trap door."

Morgan nodded in agreement and turned to his wife. "Honey, how are you holding up?"

Alex, breathing heavily and clutching her stomach, bobbed her head and grabbed her husband's hand. "Just get me to Castle, so I can have this baby!" She hissed. Morgan rushed ahead to the locker rooms and opened the secret door. The group was hustled inside before the door was completely opened, and Mary stayed behind to impatiently wait for the door to close again.

"What is dis pwace?" Emma breathed as she took in the sight of Castle from the balcony. It was a large room sectioned off into smaller rooms, each containing items that she couldn't name. What she saw, but couldn't identify, were computers, large screens, desks piled high with equipment, a large armory, a conference room, and a hallway of small prison cells. Before she was done looking at everything, Mary rushed passed her to a computer and frantically began to type. Three seconds later, Castle took on a tint of red and loud alarms went off. Emma cried and covered her ears with her hands, and before she could register what was happening she felt her Uncle Morgan pick her up and rush her and her Aunt down the stairs and into one of the prison cells.

"Is this a good place?" Morgan asked as he rushed back over to Mary.

"Of course, the room is completely bullet-proof, and I can tint the door so Emma and Alex don't have to see what's going on. Just wait until I get inside and you can lock it down."

"Why me?" Morgan squeaked.

"I need to help Alex deliver the baby, and you need to keep our attackers at bay!"

"Do we even know if anyone is coming?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Morgan saw a bright red banner fly across the screen with the words INTRUDER ALERT in the middle. Mary switched to the security footage and saw a group of about ten men walk into the Buy More, all armed with guns and ammo.

"You're going to need to call more of your men!" Mary called over her shoulder to the two Gertrude agents who, until now, had been idling unhelpfully in the corner.

"Yes M'am." The first man replied as he pulled out his phone.

"What if they don't get here in time?" Morgan asked frantically.

"Then you three need to fight!" Mary said sternly as she walked back to the prison cell.

"Bu-Bu-But I… I can't, I can't!" Morgan stammered.

"Morgan!" Alex shouted from the bench. "You know what to do! You've been part of the team for the past five years, you worked under my father, you've saved your friends, you've helped the save the world- I think you can save your family."

"My fam.." Morgan trailed off. His family. His wife, who was about to give him a child. His godchild and niece, who is all he has left of his brother and best friend. Mary, who gave him his best friend. He needed to protect these people. Before he changed his mind, Morgan gave Emma a hug, kissed his wife and her stomach, and kissed Mary's cheek, and then locked them in the prison cell. "I love you!" He mouthed as he tinted the windows.

Before he lost his confidence, Morgan rushed to the armory and prepped himself. A bullet proof vest, safety glasses, two back-up guns in a side holster, four magazines, a line of ammo, and a large shotgun that he was too busy to identify. He stepped out of the armory and called his troops to attention.

"Gentlemen," Morgan greeted as he dramatically removed his safety glasses. The tint of red, the loud alarms, and the newly-added sound of the pursuers attempting to break down the door only added to the atmosphere. "Time to fight."

o O o

Colonel John Casey was lying on the concrete floor of Lower Wacker Drive. A considerable amount of blood was gushing from his wound, and he was in pain. Not unfamiliar pain, but pain. After choking down some emergency painkillers and wrapping up his shoulder, Casey had called for help. That was fifteen minutes ago.

He shifted from his spot on the ground and peered behind him, grunting from the effort but searching desperately for a police officer, a passing car, a hobo that he could pay to run for help; anyone! As more blood left his body, Casey's mind began to grow fuzzy, and spots clouded his vision. He was getting too old for this. Casey had been in situations like these before, but he always ended up having some sort of help. Even that one Christmas when he was more than sure he was going to breathe his last breath, and went so far as to record a message for Alex on a stuffed bear, he found a way out of it.

This time, he knew it was a matter of his mindset. When you break it down, a shoulder wound isn't too bad. All he had to do was wrap it up (check), take some painkillers (check), call for help (check), and if help isn't coming fast enough he had to get up and look for help. No check. Casey tried to get up, but he just didn't have the strength, physically or mentally. So many things have happened. Chuck is dead. As much as Casey tried to tell himself it wasn't that great of a loss, he still felt saddened by it. Casey had cared for Chuck since he was ordered to kill him those short seven years ago. That kid didn't deserve to die. No American Hero deserves to die.

Casey promised himself that if he didn't take care of Chuck, then he would take care of Sarah. But he failed to do that too. Not only was Sarah captured, but she had been a wreck, and Casey didn't know what to do about it. And, while he was off helping/protecting Sarah, he left his own pregnant daughter in the protection of Morgan and Mrs. Bartowski. Although he knew she was in good hands, one could never be too sure. Casey loved Alex, and he loved his unborn grandchild, and all he wanted to do was see the soon-to-be happy family. Before he died.

A new strength flood through him, and before he knew it Casey had managed to sit up and rest against the wall of the tunnel. It wasn't much, but it was a start. At least from here he'd have a better chance of seeing any help. Speaking of help, how long had it been since he had called for some? As he pulled out his phone to check, Casey saw that he had a new voicemail. He brought the phone to his ear and was soon met by his daughter's voice:

"_Dad? Hi, it's Alex. I don't really know why I'm telling you this, since there's not much you can do about it, but… I don't know, I just have to tell you. Two men came by the house and tried to attack us, but Morgan and Mary managed to stop them. Nobody is hurt, and Gertrude's men have finally come, and we're heading to Castle now just in case other group decides to come, but… Dad I just went into labor, and I'm kind of scared because the baby is coming, and we're under attack, and Morgan is going to have to fight, and Emma is probably going to be scared for life, and… Be safe, and call me? Love you!_"

A new feeling surged through the Colonel. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Anger. His daughter was in labor, and she was being attacked. Morgan, that skinny, weak, bearded person was going to try to protect her. And all of this was happening in front of a two year old child who lost her father just days ago? With an angry grunt, Casey pushed himself to his feet, leaned against the wall momentarily, and pushed himself forward. Just keep putting one foot forward, that's all he had to do. Soon, he found himself at the foot of the steps leading to the busy streets of Chicago. The climb was long and hard, but worth it when he reached the top. A smile of relief passed his face as he collapsed on the concrete sidewalk of the busy city and heard a frantic pedestrian call for help…

o O o

Sarah woke up with splitting headache, fuzzy vision, a ringing in her ears, and the taste of cotton in her mouth. She blinked and hazily took in her surroundings. She was in a large room, with a tall ceiling, metal walls, and blinding lights. Looking down, Sarah saw that she was double tied to a metal chair that was nailed to the floor. Jacob Bower obviously knew what he was doing. Sarah let her head drop back down on her shoulder and closed her eyes. She didn't want to deal with this. Not now. Not ever. She wanted to be back at her dream home with the red door and white picket fence, sitting on the couch in her husband's embrace holding their child, talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Something told her that those days may never return.

"Sarah?"

No, she didn't want to talk, she didn't want to fight, she just wanted to sit here and think about the past, back when things were better and everyone was together and safe, and-

"Sarah!"

Her eyes snapped open. She knew that voice. "Ellie?"

"Oh my God, Sarah! Thank God you're okay!" Ellie cried.

"I'm fine, where are you?" Sarah asked.

"In the room next to you, the walls are pretty thin."

"Ellie," Sarah croaked. "Ellie, what the hell is going on?"

"Sarah," Ellie said softly. She almost sounded like she was crying. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Sarah, I- Ah!"

A loud SLAP! sounded, and Sarah jumped in her chair. "Keep your mouth shut." A voice said sternly.

Soon her door opened, and Jacob Bower came strolling in. "If you ever touch her again, I swear to God-"

Sarah felt a cold hand wrap around her throat and stop her words, as Jacob leaned close and whispered menacingly, "You need to learn to keep your mouth shut too." He released his grip, and Sarah took in a deep breath of air.

"What do you want?" She whispered hoarsely. "You got your revenge, so why are you terrorizing my family and holding me and my sister-in-law hostage?"

"That's a good question," Jacob replied as he paced around the room. "You would think that after killing the man who ruined my life, I'd feel just fine and dandy and leave and move on. And for a while, I thought that was going to be the plan. But then I started thinking; what if I got more than revenge? What if I got my life back? And that's what I'm doing. When you tried to put that tracker on me, I was making a phone call to a couple of friends of mine. They're on their way to your daughter, mother-in-law, and two friends now. With them out of the way, that only leaves you. And then, I can get my life back."

"I don't understand," Sarah whispered. Normally the idea of someone coming after her family in Burbank would terrify her, but she knew they would be protected. Gertrude's men were guarding them, and they had Mary and Morgan. They'll be okay. What she was focusing on, was that he changed the plan. His original plan was that he was going to kill Chuck, but if he changed the plan, could that mean… "Is my husband really dead?"

Jacob, who was on his way out the door, turned and looked at Sarah, confused that she wasn't worried for her family. Finally, after a moment's consideration, he answered. "Yes Mrs. Bartowski. The man you know and love is very much dead."

And with that said, he left.

Sarah stared ahead, lost in her thoughts. Oh. Chuck really was dead. But she knew that, it's not as if she had been hoping that maybe he was somehow alive and they would go home and live happily ever after. She knew he was dead. A small tear rolled down her cheek, and Sarah angrily swiped it off with her shoulder. This is ridiculous. She can't be upset over something she already knew about. It made no sense!

Except… except Sarah didn't know for sure. Except, Sarah had been harboring this fantasy that Chuck really was alive. Except for the first time since this whole nightmare started, Sarah truly felt the loss of her husband. The love of her life is dead. Never again will he hold her, kiss her, be her shoulder to cry on, call her beautiful, help her when Emma is being fussy, cover her toes when they got cold, save her life on a mission, get in a near-death experience and give her a heart attack, dance with her, give her another child. All of those beautiful, precious moments. Gone.

Sarah hung her head and cried. Tears freely cascaded down her cheeks, and her body shook hard, but she didn't care. Her husband was really dead. Her life was ruined. This is why she didn't want to fall in love with Chuck, and this is why she wanted to quit the spy life. Sarah couldn't help but feel responsible for what happened. If only they hadn't had pushed him to join the CIA, if only they took the Intersect out of his head and had just let the damn thing go! They probably wouldn't have gotten together, but Chuck would have been alive. Then Emma wouldn't exist… God, what was she going to tell Emma when she starts asking questions? How was she supposed to raise Emma by herself? How could he just leave her like this?

Right now, Emma was all the way in Burbank without her parents. Although Sarah told herself not to worry, how could she not? Emma was her daughter, her baby and the only thing she had left of Chuck. Now she could be under attack, and there is nothing Sarah can do to help her.

Sarah didn't know how long she stayed like that, torturing herself with her thoughts, but when Jacob returned she knew she'd rather continue her actions than deal with him. He stared at her for a couple of minutes, an amused look on his face. Finally, he spoke.

"Don't worry; you'll soon see your husband again." Jacob said smoothly. He stepped aside and Sarah saw that there was a figure behind him. "I've brought someone to reunite you two."

This is it, Sarah thought as she closed her eyes. This is how she dies. Part of her knew she had to fight, that she had a child waiting for her at home and that it was her responsibility to stop him. However, part of her wanted to sit here and take it; she was tired, she knew she didn't have the will power to fight, and the idea of seeing Chuck again… No. Sarah Bartowski is a fighter.

She opened her eyes and set the man before her with a gaze so cold and chilling it could curdle dairy…

…suddenly her eyes softened into an incredulous look, and she gasped.

"Mrs. Bartowski, prepare to meet your end."

"….Chuck?"

**Let the choruses of "I knew it!" and "I told you so!"'s begin! If you like what you read, feel free to drop a review! Please? Pretty please? With ice cream and cherry on top?**

**Review Replies:**

**Princesakarlita411: Thanks! And even without the BTTF reference, I like the name Marty too :)**

**phnxgrl: Haha, I thought the story needed a little comic relief! Thank you so much!**

**E5150Julian: I think this chapter kinda helped connect everything together, thanks for the review!**

**ursookrazie: I figured it was time to check up on the rest of the team, and good I was hoping someone would get the reference! And… now you know!**

**ChuckFan22: Aw, thank you so much, that really means a lot!**

**ljacob: Well, let the suspense end! Haha, thanks!**

**Musicalmania: Thank you so much, I love Back to the Future, and I'm glad that you liked the Hans Solo attachment! Also, thanks, the camp was amazing, I had the best time!**

**wassupchuck: Yeah, the story had been lacking in the action. Thanks for reading/reviewing!**

**Eric425: I had actually been waiting a while to use that reference. Chapter 9 was really one of the funnest chapters to write! And thanks, I had a great time! **

**Review! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Wow, I can't even begin to say how happy I was with the response! And I'm not even done with all of my little surprises! Thank you so much for all of your support, it means a lot to a sixteen year-old girl who still has no idea what she wants to do with her life. I love you guys!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck**

Morgan turned around in surprise. As soon as the words left his mouth, a loud explosion signaled that the door had given up its defense, and Jacob Bower's troops stormed Castle, all dramatically aided by the smoke created from the explosion. Ten men stood menacingly on the balcony. They were all tall and well-built, as well as well-armed, and each wore an expression that spoke of their preparedness to fight and apparent anger. Morgan blinked. What do they have to be so angry about? Shouldn't they be happy? They made it passed Castle's defenses, they had Morgan and his family cornered, and they probably could already taste victory. Then they would be paid, handsomely Morgan figured, by Bower, and they'd be free to live their lives with their newly acquired riches. There's no reason for anger.

Morgan glanced at one man and started. He looked vaguely familiar. As Morgan thought, he realized he had seen the man before. He was one of the men that captured Morgan and tied him up to Chuck, then held them in the training room of Castle. That was the day that changed Morgan's life forever; the day he learned that Chuck was a spy.

There was another man Morgan recognized as a helper of Shaw's when he captured Chuck, Sarah, and Casey. Morgan and Awesome had to free the trio by attacking Shaw's van with help from Casey's car.

That man was a bodyguard of the doctor from Zamibia; Morgan recognized him from the concert he went to with Chuck. Another man was from the night Morgan and Awesome helped Chuck stake out Sarah and Shaw's date, where they were unexpectedly attacked by Ring agents.

He had seen all of these people before. They were all agents involved in the Ring, before it fell.

One of them stepped forward. "Well, if it isn't the Intersect's little friend." They mocked in a voice that said he meant business. "This should be easier than I thought."

Morgan looked behind at his troops of two men, plus himself, and swallowed. He was in trouble.

o O o

Alex screamed as another contraction sent a tidal wave of pain throughout her body. She had been warned of how painful childbirth is, but never did she expect it to hurt this bad. Soon, she realized she wasn't just screaming from the pain, but from the frustration and worry for Sarah, her father, and her husband.

She thought that Morgan could handle knocking out the men that were coming for them, but the more she thought about it, the more worried Alex got. Morgan wasn't trained as well for this as Sarah, Chuck, and her dad had been. He hardly even did field work on missions; the only time Morgan actually fought was when he had the Intersect. Now, it was a rare occurrence if Morgan was the one using the gun or punching out the bad guy. Alex felt tears stream down her cheeks as another contraction caused her more pain, and Mary checked to see how far along she was. If anything happened to her husband, Alex didn't know if she could ever forgive herself.

"Emma?" Mary asked as she gave a hug to the poor child crying in the corner. "Are you okay?"

"Gramma, I scawed." The toddler whispered as she clung onto her Hans Solo doll. "I want my mommy and daddy!"

Mary stared at the doll and started to finger its head. "Honey, you've been put through so much, and I am so sorry. But there's something you should know. You're parents are very brave people. Whenever they were scared, they didn't show it. Instead they'd be strong for each other. I need you to be like your mom and your… dad. Be brave. Can you be brave for your mommy and daddy?"

A few more cries and tears shook the small girl's body, but she soon managed to reduce them to small sniffles. "Okay Gramma."

Mary smiled and brought the child close to her. She hated this. She hated teaching her two year-old grandchild to hide the pain and fear, but she knew that there wasn't time to deal with an emotional toddler. "I love you," Mary whispered into Emma's brown, curly hair.

"Okay, Alex." Mary said as she stood up and grabbed the shaking woman's hand. Alex looked over and saw Emma grab her other hand. "It's time to push."

o O o

John Casey woke up to loud beeping noises and the tingling sensation that came with waking up from various hospital drugs. The sting in his hand from the IV confirmed his previous suspicions. He was in the hospital. His shoulder felt numb, and he saw that it was heavily bandaged. Rolling onto his side to the table next to his bed, Casey picked up his phone and glanced at the time. Ten fifteen. He'd only been in here for three hours. Meaning Sarah has been with Bower for the past three hours. Who knows what could have happened by now, if she was even alive?

A higher-pitched beeping noise interrupted his thoughts, and Casey realized that an alarm on his phone had been sounding for the past two and a half hours. He smirked at the mental image of the doctors and nurses desperately trying to shut his phone up, unsuccessfully obviously. Punching in the password, Casey saw that the alarm sounded off because Sarah had activated her tracker. An address flashed across the screen. Not wasting any time, he dialed a number and held the phone up to his ear.

"This is Colonel John Casey. I need a rescue squad at the following address."

o O o

"Chuck?" Sarah asked incredulously. Impossible, it can't be him. She was still sleeping, she had gotten hit too hard on the head and was now hallucinating; it can't be him! Yet there he was. His face looked sweaty and tired, and there was a long cut on his forehead, and another on his cheek. He was dressed in a simple black jacket and dark jeans. On his feet he wore his black and white Chuck Converse. His brown, curly hair looked sweaty, and revealed that he hadn't washed in days. His brown eyes focused intensely on her. But there was something off about his eyes; they were too intense, too dark, too… evil. It was him. But at the same time, it wasn't.

"Chuck," Sarah said again, and in response he walked up to her and began untying her restraints. "Chuck, oh my God, Chuck you're alive! Baby, I thought you were dead! What happened?"

Forgetting all about Bower and his previous statement, Sarah stood up and grabbed Chuck into to one warm hug as soon as he had finished untying her. She felt him stiffen up and slowly released her hold. When she looked up at him, she saw an expression of pure apathy. This wasn't Chuck.

"Sarah Bartowski." Chuck spoke for the first time. For some reason, Sarah shivered. His voice was too cold, there wasn't the same warmth he had when he spoke Sarah's full name. Even after four years of marriage, Chuck's voice always brightened up when he said her last name. "Prepare to fight."

Sarah swallowed. This wasn't Chuck at all.

o O o

Morgan raised his gun and stared up at the attackers. Their position wasn't good. From here, the attackers had a perfect shot at all three of their opponents. If only he could get them to come down from the balcony, but they wouldn't do that until they thought they were safe, a.k.a. until their three opponents were dead. That was when Morgan was struck with an idea. Hurriedly, he turned around and relayed his plan to Gertrude's two agents.

"Okay," Morgan said as he placed his gun on the ground and put his hands in the air. The agents behind him followed his example. "We surrender."

The man in charged smiled. "Smart choice." He raised his gun. "Unfortunately, orders are orders."

Three shots rang out, and three men fell to the ground.

o O o

Chuck tightened his fists and positioned himself in a fighting stance. His objective: fight and kill the woman in front of him. This shouldn't be hard, he mused as he sized Sarah up. Although she was one of the CIA's best agents, that had been years ago and obviously her child and loss of her husband had taken some sort of emotional toll on her. This is when anyone, even trained agents, is easiest to defeat. When they're emotional.

He threw out an experimental punch, which Sarah easily batted away with a quick kick to his hand. Her reflexes were fast, but she was holding back, that much he could tell.

"I'm not going to fight you, Chuck." Sarah said desperately.

_His body slammed into the glass mirror behind him, and he quickly moved so his back was against the wall instead of the broken glass behind him. She stood over him, her fists raised, shouting, "Why won't you fight back?"_

_He paused for a moment to catch his breath, wipe his tears, get an idea of what the hell was going on, before responding._

"_I'm not going to fight you."_

Chuck blinked and touched his head briefly, before returning to his fighting stance. What the hell was that? Quickly, though, he recovered and swung another punch at her head. This time she ducked. Seeing this, he kicked out his foot and caught her in the stomach. She gasped and fell on her knees, clutching her stomach.

Chuck took the opportunity to think over what happened. What was that? Was that a flashback? A memory? He didn't have memories, Chuck realized with a start, he didn't remember anything. Why was he doing this again?

"Chuck, listen to me." Sarah cried out as she got to her feet.

Before he could stop himself, the instinct telling him to fight took over, and he once again caught her in a roundhouse kick. Her head snapped to the side, and her other hand now clung to her cheek, yet still she did not fight back. This is not how fights are supposed to go.

"Fight back!" He yelled out of frustration.

"No! I'll never hurt you."

_She landed two more punches, and he found himself in the doorway of the room. Taking advantage of the pause, he used the opportunity to convince her of his feelings._

"_I'm never gonna hurt you."_

_He braced himself for the next attack._

Growling darkly, Chuck raced forward and grabbed her by the neck, lifting her in the air. There was no need to draw this out, he might-as-well finish the job now. But first, he had to know why she was so attached to him.

"Why?" He demanded. She blinked at him and he tightened his grip. "Why?"

"Because," She gasped. Chuck could see it in her eyes, she was losing oxygen and didn't have long before her body blacked out and her heart quit. "I love… you. Chuck, you're… my husband."

_She kicked him again, and he landed face-first against the wall. Quickly, he spun around and shouted out in a last-ditch effort. _

"_Sarah, you're my wife!"_

Chuck blinked, and noticed that Sarah was now limp. Quickly, he released his grip and she fell harshly to the ground. Chuck's hands flew to his head, and he thought hard. Those were all flashbacks, they had to be. He remembered them vividly; the pain that came which each attack, both physically and mentally, how desperate he was to get her to remember, how broken he was when she said they were just an assignment; he remembered that night too well. He also realized with a start that he remembered Sarah.

Sarah, his wife, the love of his life, the mother of his child- oh God, his child! Chuck kneeled down on the floor and clutched his head as the memories came flooding back. He remembered everything; his family, his friends, his life, what happened, what he was doing… what he had done.

Chuck looked over at the limp form on his right, and reached a tentative hand out to touch Sarah's hair. She didn't respond to his touch, and Chuck gently shook her shoulder. Still no response. He rolled her over so she was on her back, and moved her hair away from her neck. Purple bruises lined the side of her throat, her face was drained of all color, and she wasn't moving.

"Oh God," Chuck gasped, and he took in a deep breath as he resisted the urge to vomit. "Oh God, Sarah?"

"Well done, Chuck," Jacob said as he came striding into view. "You've completed your assignment."

**Told you I wasn't done with the surprises. Chuck's story will be explained next chapter, I promise. Please please please don't forget to review, it really means a lot!**

**Review Replies: **

**Princesakarlita411: Unfortunately, I think I supplied more questions than answers… sorry :)**

**E5150Julian: I think memory loss and zombies make the best stories haha**

**UKChuckster: I think this chapter kinda answered that question, haha, but thanks, I'm glad you liked the chapter**

**grandetiopaco: Happy endings are very happy, but I guess we'll just have to see what happens ;)**

**ursookrazie: Really? Whatever the reference was, it was unintentional, but that's kinda awesome!**

**ljacob: Yay, I'm happy I managed to surprise you guys!**

**Eric425: Thanks, I'm not that great at writing action scenes, but let me know what you thought!**

**Musicalmania: Alana B. Sherwood is very happy that you're happy! Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter!**

**KryptonitePoison: I couldn't have killed Chuck, I love him just too damn much!**

**Chuckster: Haha thanks, hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I know, I'm late, and I am so sorry! I had a Speech and Debate Camp this week, and I was just so busy, and tired, and yeah. But to make it up to you, I proudly present the longest chapter since Chapter 3. Enjoy!**

**Update: In my defense, it took me two nights to write this chapter, and both times I was half-asleep and dead tired from camp. Now that I've gotten more than seven hours of sleep, I decided to read the reviews and go back over the chapter, and there were sooo many mistakes I wanted to hit myself in the head with a hammer. So here it is, revised and hopefully more understandable/realistic. I'm sorry to those of you that read the original. It was not my finest work. It's not too different, but there are some changes, so if you read the original, it might help to re-read it with the changes. Thank you especially to KryptonitePoison, I really appreciated the review and hope I got all of your nit picks.**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing**

Chuck stared horrified at Sarah's crumpled form. What had he done? His wife was lying there, unnaturally still, unnaturally pale. And it was his fault. He promised her he would never hurt her, _never_, and yet he did. Whether he was in his right mind or not, he broke that promise.

_Chuck woke up to blackness. The air was stale and he felt constrained somehow. He reached a tentative hand upward, but it was stopped only three inches above his face. Panicked, he quickly ran his hand around the surface above him, and then to either side of him. His worst suspicions were confirmed. Chuck was trapped in some sort of a box. _

_Not only was he trapped, but he felt… strange. Although he could hardly see a thing, Chuck could feel his vision swimming before his eyes. He also felt a dull ache in his chest, and breathing became a small struggle. _

_Right as he was about to hyperventilate and freak out, the sound of released pressurized air interrupted him mid-gasp, and the first flashes of light hit his face. As the lid drew back, Chuck saw he was being held in some sort of cargo storage area. That, combined with the distant hum of engines that he had ignored earlier, led him to the conclusion that he was on a plane. And he wasn't alone._

"_Good morning, Sunshine!" A man said sarcastically as he stepped back. Chuck realized with a start that it was the same man that tried to kill him in the car. "Aren't you looking sharp?"_

_He sat up, looked down, and saw that he was wearing fancy attire; a sports coat, white collared shirt, dress pants, a tie, and his Converse. Still looking down, he realized that the box he had been contained in was sleek and steel, and padded on the inside. Horrified, Chuck looked up at the man for some sort of explanation. _

"_Oh, yes, see I've just picked you up from your funeral."_

"_My funeral?" Chuck repeated, horribly confused and frightened. Quickly, he jumped out of the casket, and soon regretted doing so as an over-powering feeling of light-headedness took over. Stumbling back a few feet, Chuck focused on thinking about what had happened. He remembered a car crash, and waking up in the Emergency Room, Ellie saving his life, and then trying to fall asleep in his room, and then… and that's it. Something had to have happened, but what? "My family thinks I'm dead?"_

"_Family, friends, the world; just about everyone except for a select few in the CIA."He said smoothly._

"_How does the CIA know I'm not dead?"Chuck asked dumbly._

"_Because they're the ones that ordered it." The man replied as he raised a badge identifying him as a CIA agent._

"_What… how… you're not in the CIA!" Chuck exclaimed. "You were a Fulcrum agent! I remember that, you told me that in the car! Who the hell are you anyway?"_

"_Thanks to your sister I am. And my name is Jacob Bower."_

"_My sister? Bower, you better stay the hell away from her!" Chuck said menacingly as he took a threatening step forward. He was immediately stopped as Jacob took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a video on the screen. Ellie was tied up in a chair in the middle of a room. She looked tired, scared, and it was evident that she had been crying._

"_This is a live video. Move another foot, and I'll give my guard there the order to kill her here and now." Jacob replied. Chuck stared at him hard. He could be bluffing, that could be a pre-recorded video, but what if it wasn't? He knew for a fact that Jacob had his sister at some point, so who's to say that he didn't have her now? Defeated, Chuck relaxed and settled for a fixed glare at the man in front of him._

_It was obvious that Bower had used Ellie to hack into the CIA and forge an ID badge for him. If she could do that, which she did, then it's also possible that she had called for a Code: 9786, or a fake death. That explained the funeral. He had been injected with something to create the appearance of death, and was given a funeral and obituary, he was sure, to get the message to the rest of the world. But why?_

"_What do you want?" Chuck asked._

_A thin smile was played on Bower's face. "Here's another drug you might remember. Laudanol?"_

_Chuck's face hardened even more. Laudanol. The drug that Casey had stolen from the CIA during a security check and had almost given to the Ring because they were holding his ex-fiancé. The drug that, when Chuck had taken it, completely cleared his mind and made him focus solely on taking down the enemy. The drug that almost drove Chuck to kill with his bare hands._

"_Why would I take that?" _

"_Because if you don't, not only will your sister die, but so will your wife," The image on Bower's phone changed to a feed of blotchy face, red-eyed Sarah packing her suitcase. Suddenly, a picture of Emma, sniffling and lying on her bed, appeared. As Bower continued to talk, a new picture coincided with his words. "Your daughter, your best friend, his pregnant wife, your mother; I think you've gotten the picture."_

_Chuck swallowed the large lump forming in his throat. He could try to separate Bower from his phone and take him down in a fight, but ache in his chest and light-headedness gave him second thoughts on his chances of winning. It wasn't worth the risk. He was trapped. _

"_What are you going to do with me?" Chuck asked slowly._

"_Whatever I please." Bower replied proudly._

_Who knows what could happen? Chuck had no control over himself when he had taken that pill. He could steal from, fight, even kill innocent people at Bower's command. But maybe he could retain some sort of control over himself; after all, he snapped out of it before. It wasn't much, but it was something to hope for._

"_And you'll leave my family alone; they'll be safe?"_

"_Cross my heart," Bower said with the gesture and smirk._

"_I'll do it."_

Chuck shook himself out of the horrifying memory. That was in the past and out of his control. Now, he had to focus on what he had control of. He stood up slowly and looked Bower in the eye. Enough was enough. It was time to right the wrongs. It was time to fight.

o O o

"Are they dead?"

"Let's go check; half of you stay up here in case they're trying to pull any funny business."

Five of Bower's men slowly made their way down the stairs to the main floor of Castle, toward the three opponents lying on the floor. The three were still. One attacker decided to settle for just poking them in the back with the barrel of his gun. They remained unmoving.

"Dead."

In a flash, the three bodies shot out their feet and knocked over three of the men. Morgan shot up triumphantly and stared down at the flattened bullet on his bullet-proof vest. He looked over at his comrades to make sure they were okay, and gave them the go-ahead to fight. As the three opponents fell to the ground, the five upstairs opened fire while the remaining two settled for hand-to-hand combat. Morgan picked up one of the three fallen men and used him as a shield from the five shooters. He felt the bullets against his human-shield as he pulled out his own gun and retaliated with some fire of his own. Two of the bullets found their mark; one went through an attacker's head and struck him dead, while the other went through the attacker's hand. Meanwhile, his human shield had long ago gone limp.

Morgan didn't have time to mull over the feeling of his first kill; the fight continued.

The other three shooters fell, and Morgan looked over to see his two comrades fighting just as hard. He did a quick headcount: five-now six dead, one injured, one on the ground, and the remaining two were fighting Gertrude's men.

Morgan managed to bring himself back to reality just as the one on the ground picked himself up and came at him. He raised his gun, only to have it swiftly kicked out of his hand. Morgan decided to return the favor. Realizing that he couldn't hide behind his fire-power in this fight, Morgan mentally prepared for hand-to-hand combat. He swung a fist forward…

… thirty seconds later, Morgan found himself face-down on the floor, hands pinned under a knee resting firmly on his back, and the barrel of a gun against his head.

"That was almost too easy," The man trapping him hissed. He heard two more thuds, and saw that Gertrude's men had fallen also. Morgan gulped. He was alone. The cold barrel against his skull served as a crude reminder to exactly how alone he was at the moment. "I'm not going to draw this out."

Morgan closed his eyes. This was it. The end. Fin. He led a good life, he supposed. Between the video games, shifts at the Buy More, more video games, and then the exciting life of spying, falling in love, almost losing the love, more spying, getting married, trying to start a family… Morgan realized with a start that this was exactly what Chuck had accomplished during his short thirty-five years here on Earth. If he had accomplished the same as his best friend, and secret hero, Morgan decided he could safely assume he led a good life.

His only regret was never being able to meet his child, who was currently coming into this world only a mere few feet away. The spy life is dangerous, and in some cases, fatal. Morgan only wished he had realized that sooner.

His captor released the safety.

"Freeze!" A voice called out sternly. Morgan's eyes snapped opened. Gertrude Verbanski stood on the balcony of Castle. She was surrounded by at least fifteen men, with ten others running down the stairs to aid Morgan and their fallen comrades. All were armed. All were ready. And all were Morgan's knights in shining armor.

The man holding him down was promptly tackled, and Morgan quickly jumped to his feet in an effort to seem less weak. "Oh, uh yes your assistance was… was much appreciated, I guess, although I think I had a pretty good hold on things, and-"

"Morgan," He turned and saw Gertrude had descended down the stairs and was now approaching. "I think you're needed somewhere else."

She gestured toward the cell containing his wife and child, that is if the child hadn't been born yet. Morgan, deciding to throw away all pride and humiliation, broke out in a grateful smile and gave Gertrude a bone-crashing hug.

"Thank you."

Leaving her with one last grin, Morgan ran to the cell. It was time for him to start his family. It was time for him to become a father.

o O o

Focusing on the opponent ahead of him, Chuck's eyelids fluttered to a half-closed position and his eyes moved at a rapid pace. Within seconds, the Intersect showed him everything he needed to know to take down Bower in a matter of seconds.

"What are you doing?" Bower asked, his face laced with confusion and poorly-hidden terror. In a last-effort move, he pulled out his cell phone and entered a number. "May I remind you that all I have to do is give the word, and your family at home will be dead?"

Chuck struck out his foot. Bower's phone was kicked out of his hand and scattered across the floor before he could finish his threat. He looked to his phone, and then back up at Chuck. His terror was now horribly evident.

Deciding not to go down without a fight, Bower raised his fist and swung at Chuck. He easily dodged and retaliated with a solid punch of his own. It struck Bower clearly across his cheek. Frustrated, he came at Chuck with all he had; fists swinging and occasionally legs kicking. Chuck dodged almost all of the attempts, and even managed to get in a punch of kick of his own. Delivering one last skull-crashing blow, Chuck managed to render Bower unconscious and crumpled on the floor. It was too easy.

Shaking himself out of the Intersect-induced fight mode, Chuck quickly slid over to where Sarah still lay. He gently gathered her in his arms, in a position almost similar to the one she ended up in when she collapsed at their rehearsal dinner. He found himself blinking back tears at both the memory and current situation as he shook her shoulders and called out to her.

"Sarah! Sarah? Baby, come on, you have to come back to me." No response. "Come on! It's over! I beat Bower, he didn't make the phone call, so our family is safe. All I need is for you to wake up." With a cry, Chuck buried his head into her shoulder. "Sarah please! You can't die like this, not by my hand. Not when I'm the one that did this to you. Please, baby you have to come back to me."

Chuck inhaled sharply, took in her scent. It was calming, familiar. He took another deep breath before looking at her again. He needed to focus. He needed help.

"Ellie."

Quickly, Chuck set Sarah back down on the ground and ran over to the room containing his sister. He opened the door and was met by frantic eyes. Ellie was awake and tied to her chair with duct tape over her mouth. Not wasting a moment, Chuck slid over to the chair and undid her restraints. Pausing only a moment to make sure she was okay, he grabbed the end of the tape and swiftly ripped it off.

"Ah! Ow!" Ellie cried as she jumped up from her chair. After massaging her mouth for only a second, she threw her arms around her brother's neck. "Chuck I was so worried! Are you okay, what happened?"

"I'm fine, but Sarah," Chuck paused for a moment to think of the right thing to say. "She was choked, she's not responsive, I need help."

"Okay, let's go." Chuck quickly turned on his heel and fled back to where Sarah still laid, Ellie close behind him. She kneeled down and began her examination. Ellie checked her pulse and gently felt her neck.

"Chuck, feel her neck," Ellie said as she grabbed his hand and led it to the side of her neck where her pulse is. He took in a breath of apprehension. Chuck waited two seconds, three seconds… he felt the distant _thump_ under his finger. She had a pulse.

Sarah was alive.

"She's okay, she must have just blacked out." Ellie explained with a small smile.

"Then why isn't she waking up?" Chuck asked anxiously.

"I don't know, the only thing I can think of is exhaustion or, in an extreme case, maybe a coma."

"_A coma_?"

"It's just a theory! Try to wake her up, I'm going to go call Devon." Ellie said as she stood up and searched around for her cell phone, and then walked outside.

"Sarah," Chuck said gently as he once again gathered her in his arms. He studied her carefully; she was pale and still, but the more he looked, the more he could see a small, yet subtle rise in her chest, and a slight color in her cheeks. "Sarah, Sarah please!"

The more Chuck looked at her, the more obvious it was that she was alive. He didn't know why he didn't see it before, maybe he was too freaked out. "Don't freak out." He whispered to himself.

Chuck still needed to wake her up, but how? For some reason, an image flashed before his eyes.

_They were sitting on the beach three years ago. The last couple of weeks had been Hell-on-Earth for them, but they survived. Now there was one thing left to do; come back to each other._

"_Kiss me."_

Chuck blinked. Could it be that simple? Out of options, he leaned closer to her still face. "Sarah, I love you."

Their lips met.

o O o

Sarah was floating, or dreaming, or maybe both. She didn't know where she was, or what she was doing, but it felt… good. There wasn't anything specific going on to make it feel good, just that it did. She didn't feel tired, or worried, or afraid, or sad, or pained. Therefore, she felt good. It would be so easy to just close her eyes and just stay like this forever…

"Sarah?" She saw her dad. He was standing there, beckoning.

"Sarah!" Her mom cried out, worried as ever.

"Baby, come one, you have to come back to me." She smiled. They haven't called her 'Baby' in a long time.

"Come on! It's over! I beat Bower, he didn't make the phone call so our family is safe!" She a voice, but didn't see a face. Sarah did see Emma form in front of her. She was still a toddler, but as Sarah watched, Emma slowly began to grow, until finally she was a middle-aged adult. Her mouth moved, but the voice didn't match. "All I need is for you to wake up."

And then she saw Chuck. He was whole, and perfect, and _hers_. It was her Chuck. "Sarah please! You can't die like this, not by my hand. Not when I'm the one that did this to you. Please, baby you have to come back to me."

Wake up? Why would she do that! It's so comfortable here! Suddenly, more people began to appear. Ellie, Devon, Claire and Stephen, Morgan, Alex, a small baby in Alex's arms, Casey, Mary, Stephen Sr., Carina, the Cat squad, Molly, General Beckham, Bryce; they were all there, and all speaking.

"_Sarah!"_

"_Sarah, Sarah please!"_

"_Stop!"_ Sarah cried. Her voice echoed around the space, and as quickly as they had come, they disappeared. Only Chuck remained. He walked forward slowly and grabbed her by the hands.

"Don't freak out."

Sarah gasped. Something was pulling on her heart, but it wasn't enough. She gasped again, but soon settled back into the comfortable cocoon.

"Sarah," Chuck said again. She looked up at him. He was holding her now. "I love you."

o O o

As Chuck kissed her, he felt her stir, and then slowly, her lips reacted to his. He pulled away and saw that she was opening her eyes and looking at him intently.

Sarah saw him. _Her _Chuck, the one with whom she had fallen in love, and married, and had a child. "Sarah?" He said gently, hesitantly. She smiled. There was so much love, so much warmth in his voice, in that one word. He was back.

"Chuck," She replied, her throat raw and sore. His lips tugged up into his famous half-grin, and before the other said another word, Chuck swooped down and kissed her again. She was alive. He was alive. And at the moment, that was all that mattered.

A low groan interrupted them, and Chuck turned to see Bower slowly moving into a sitting position. "You." He growled. He slowly released Sarah and stormed over to Jacob Bower.

"This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you!" Chuck said menacingly as he sent a low kick to Bower's stomach. The change in his emotion was almost startling, but as happy as he was that Sarah is alive, Chuck was still mad. Not just mad, livid. He wasn't running off of the Intersect. Now, he was running off pure emotion. Bower coughed and collapsed back onto the floor. Not satisfied, Chuck swooped down and picked up a discarded gun, cocking it quickly.

"Chuck!" Sarah shouted, and then coughed from the effort. "Think about this!"

Before he did something he might regret, Chuck took in a deep breath. He realized what he doing. Holding a man at gun-point was not something he liked to do. Especially when the man was defenseless and currently not doing anything to harm anyone. Chuck only held people at gun-point in hostage situations or extremely necessary times.

This time, Chuck knew he wanted to shoot Bower for himself. For revenge.

It was so close, and such a simple action. All he had to do was squeeze his finger. And that was it. After all, the bastard deserved it. He almost killed Chuck, kidnapped Ellie, threatened his family, and made him almost kill his own wife. He deserved to die.

And Chuck deserved revenge. But wasn't it revenge that had started this whole mess in the first place? Chuck knew he didn't have the right to take away another human life, no matter how much they deserved it. And he still didn't like guns.

Before Chuck could make his final decision, he was interrupted by the sound of a metal door being forced open and a cry of, "Freeze! Nobody move!"

The rescue squad had arrived.

Chuck looked distastefully at Bower, who glared at him with a look of sadistic triumph. He tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump in his throat. "Arrest him."

**Update: I hate ending it at this part, but it does seem very Chuck-ish to not end with absolutely pure fluff. I don't know, maybe that's just me**

**To those of you that had been wishing for a happy ending since day one: I hope you're satisfied. I have one more chapter planned, which should be up by Monday, and then that's it. Thank you all so, so much!**

**Review Replies:**

**Hotski: Well I'm damn glad you're excited! Hope I lived up to the excitement!**

**UKChuckster: I can't kill off Sarah either… I'm just too soft. And that's I really liked writing that part.**

**Princesakarlita411: Yes, yes she is**

**Guest: Thank you! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**Ursookrazie: Ahh, that's cool! Unintentional reference win! Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**ChuckNutz: Thank you!**

**KryptonitePoison: Haha thanks, you called it!**

**Guest: Thank you! I'm glad I managed to write a good action scene!**

**Phnxgrl: Thanks!**

**Guest: Haha that's okay, and thanks!**

**Chuck and sarah: Aw, I didn't know I could get that kind of a reaction!**

**Eric425: Thank you so much! And ah, don't you just love the teenage identity-crisis? Good luck!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Alright I know this is short, but I'm on a bit of schedule and I really couldn't think of anything else to write in here. I guess this doesn't really count as a chapter, think of it more as an epilogue. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck**

"His name is Marty," Morgan said proudly as he looked down at his son. "Martin John Grimes, actually, but we call him Marty for short."

Chuck raised an eyebrow as he looked at his best friend. "Marty?" He laughed softly, understanding the reference. "That's a great name. Congratulations, buddy."

"Thanks, man," Morgan replied with a smile as he continued looking at his son's sleeping form. They were standing in what was once Chuck's room, now the baby's room, in the Grimes' apartment. The walls had been repainted a lighter blue, and a thick rug covered a majority of the floors. The crib was against the wall were Chuck's bed had been, while the rest of the room was furnished with a changing table, a rocking chair, a dresser, and a bin for toys.

Morgan Grimes and Chuck Bartowski were looking down at a small, eight pound, three ounce baby. The child had soft, pink skin and dark brown wisps of hair on his head. Alex swore that little Marty already had her nose, and Morgan was betting that he would get his eyes.

Chuck reached down and gently stroked Marty's tiny, clenched fist. He smiled. He remembered how excited he and Sarah were when they were expecting Emma. Sarah had been an emotional mess; one day she was happy and loved everyone and everything, the next she was scared over the child's future if they continued to be spies, then the next she was angry that there was a problem in the first place; why couldn't she just enjoy her pregnancy like normal mothers-to-be? But all of Sarah's troubles, worries, fears, and anger went away the moment she first held Emma in her arms. And so did Chuck's. In that moment they knew that they had done the right thing, and that somehow, everything was going to work out.

The baby stirred against Chuck's touch, and Morgan smiled as his son opened his eyes. A low cry was heard, and Morgan reached down to pick up the baby. "Shh, sh it's okay! It's okay, I'm here." Morgan said in a soft whisper. The baby responded by crying even louder, and Alex soon appeared in the doorway.

"What's wrong, is he okay?" She asked frantically.

"He's fine, but I think he might be a little hungry." Morgan replied. Alex closed her eyes briefly before walking forward and taking the baby from her husband.

"Okay, okay- Hi honey! Hi there , baby, are you hungry? Are you hungry? Yes you are, yes," Morgan and Chuck listened to Alex's cooing all the way down the hallway before speaking again.

"It's great, isn't it? Parenthood, and what-not." Chuck asked with a grin.

"Yeah, it is. It's great, man, I mean, I thought I'd be scared, you know? For the past couple of months I didn't want to think about it, didn't want to believe it. But then I almost died, and I got to see him being born, and… it's great." Morgan replied.

"Yeah… I'm sorry for that, by the way." Chuck replied with a hard, honest stare. "For everything, especially everything that happened the past two weeks. I didn't want you to have to risk your life for anything, and the fact that you had to do that while Alex was in labor… I'm so sorry."

"Dude, it's fine." Morgan said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We're practically family, and that's what family does."

Chuck smiled a lop-sided grin. Morgan was family. He's his brother.

"But for the record," Morgan said, clearing his throat at the hidden emotion in his next sentence. "Don't… don't do that again. Sarah was a mess, Emma was crying nearly the entire time, and I… I didn't want Marty to be without his Godfather."

"Trust me, Morgan," Chuck replied as he threw an arm around his best friend's shoulder and led him back to the party in the living room. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Daddy! Daddy, Daddy!" Emma cried as she came running at the sight of her father.

"Hey Princess," Chuck said as he reached down and picked up his daughter. He noticed she was holding his Hans Solo figurine.

"Daddy, Mommy said I cwan hwave anotha pweice of cake!" Emma said excitedly.

"Oh, really? Well that was nice of her." Chuck said, easily slipping back into the 'baby voice' he used whenever he was with his daughter. "Hey, what 'cha got there?"

"Oh, I fwound wour dolly," Emma said, holding up the Hans Solo doll.

"It's a figu- Wow, well you need to treat that… doll, extra nice, okay? It's very special to me," He replied with a wagging finger.

"Okay, Daddy," Emma replied sweetly with a kiss to his cheek. She quickly started wiggling, and Chuck took the hint to put her down so she can go claim her second slice of cake. He watched after her as she grabbed the slice and congregated with her cousin, Clara. Nearby, Ellie was talking with Casey, whose shoulder was still bandaged. Devon hovered closed by, baby Stephen strapped to his chest. Morgan and Alex were talking with Mary, baby Marty held firmly in Alex's arms. Everyone was here, except Sarah.

Chuck decided to look for her outside. After mingling through the crowd, he found himself in the courtyard, next to the fountain. He slowly walked around it, thinking of where she could be, when a gold plaque caught his eye.

_In loving memory of_

_Charles I. Bartowski_

_9/18/1981 – 6/19/2015_

_A hero who was loved by many_

Chuck blinked and read it again, just to make sure he had seen it correctly. It was strange to him, to have been thought of as dead when he remembered being very much alive. He knew that they had had a funeral (he remembered all too well waking up in the casket), and he had been told something about a memorial or plaque, but actually seeing it brought on an entire new set of emotions. It was haunting, chilling almost; it felt like he was seeing his own grave. It was a weird feeling that Chuck honestly did not want to experience again.

"We'll have that removed as soon as possible." A voice said behind him. Chuck turned and saw Sarah standing behind him, a look of understanding on her face. He had to swallow before he found his voice.

"Um, ah yeah that'd be great," Chuck said awkwardly. "Not that I'm not touched, or anything, it's just… weird."

Sarah nodded and walked closer. "It's okay, I've heard that from a couple of agents who've had to fake their death. I understand."

As she got closer, Chuck could see the bruises on each side of her neck. Noticing his stare, she quickly adjusted her hair and his view was cut off. "I'm sorry, Sarah, I really can't believe I-"

"Chuck it's okay, you've apologized enough," Sarah replied hastily. She was cut off by an unexpected hug from her husband.

"No, I haven't." Chuck said to her hair. "Sarah, I could have killed you. Look at what I did to your neck- that is not okay!"

"Chuck, you didn't know what you were doing! You weren't yourself, I understand that," Sarah replied firmly as she pulled back. He tried to look away, and she used her hand to direct his head to face hers. "I don't think any less of you; I know you wouldn't have done that if you were in your right mind. It wasn't your fault."

He slowly nodded and smiled, grateful that she could reassure him so easily. "There is something we need to talk about though," Chuck said slowly, not entirely sure how to put it. "This, our jobs, the spy life. I'm… I'm done with it."

When he was met by a look of surprise, he quickly rushed to his explanation. "Years ago, we used to be able to get into situations like this and not have to worry about bouncing back, because we never had that much to lose. In fact, we'd prepare for something to happen every day. But now, we have a daughter, we have Emma, and we can't put her at risk like this all the time. So, I quit."

Sarah slowly smiled and nodded, a silent agreement to quit the spy life with him. "So what are we going to do?"

"Well, we can start that computer business we talked about those years ago. And if that doesn't work, then we'll always have the Buy More."

"Okay, that could work. So this is it, we're quitting the spy life?"

Chuck looked over again at his family through the window and opened door. He saw his daughter, running around and playing with his niece, Clara. He never wanted any of them to be involved in this, they were too young, too innocent and the spy life was too dangerous and heartless. He saw his mom, the only parent he had left, talking with his best friend and Alex. Morgan and Alex were just starting a family, and because of him that chance had come dangerously close to disappearing. He saw Casey, now a grandfather, who would probably agree with them on their decision. He saw his sister and brother-in-law, who had gone through just as much as he had. They had a family, they had a successful life, and they more than anyone needed to stay out of the spy life. And then he saw his wife, who had risked so much and gone through so much for him. The women he loved, the women he would follow to the edge of the world. For her, and for his daughter, and friends, and family, he would quit the spy life.

"Yeah, we're quitting the spy life."

**What would you guys think of a next-generation type fic with Emma as a teenager on her way to college finding out about her parent's past? Just an idea… **

**Anyway! This was it, the last chapter! I have so many people to thank, especially phnxgrl, Musicalmania, Princesakarlita411, and UKChuckster for reviewing most or every single chapter. You guys have really kept me going. I'd also like to thank KryptonitePoison for, frankly, saving my ass on the last chapter. I've thanked you before, but I'm thanking you again. **

**And of course, I'd like to thank every single reviewer. I never thought I could get such a huge response to my first story. Really, you guys have given me so much more confidence in my writing, and it means a lot to me.**

**Again, thank you for everything. The 91 reviews, 49 follows, 19 favorites, and 12,366 general views. It means a lot.**

**Review Replies:**

**Eric425: That's what scares me so much about it! (The life-defining choice part) Anyway, thank you so much for reading a reviewing, I've really appreciated them.**

**ursookrazie: Happiness galore Thank you for reviewing!**

**UKChuckster: To maintain the fluff, I decided to keep Bower out of the final chapter. And thank you for the criticism, it was something I made sure to fix when I revised the last chapter. Thank you for all of your reviews!**

**Princesakarlita411: Thanks, thank you for all of your reviews!**

**KryptonitePoison: As I've probably said more than once, your nit picks were extremely helpful. Thank you for helping me set the record straight!**

**Musicalmania: Thank you, and thanks for your reviews!**

**Hotski: Thank you, I was really happy with that part. Thanks the reviews!**

**fatpinoy: Alright great, because I was worried that I ended the chapter at a weird spot. Thank for your review!**


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